Never Been a Hero
by Sorge
Summary: A young university student is thrust into a world of high-speed thrills and intrigue after a chance meeting in the park.
1. An Old Man's Tale

**Chapter 1: An Old Man's Tale**

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><p>It was a Saturday, the week after finals, which meant no studies. I was free just to relax and spend the day how I wanted. It was a pleasant summer afternoon. I threw my sketchpad in my backpack and took the bus downtown.<p>

The sun was warm in the bright air, and its reflection on the glass panes of skyscrapers dazzled. I bought a hot dog at a vendor's cart and walked the streets at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sunlit afternoon. I relished these chances to get away. They made me feel like a man out on the town, free to make my own way however I liked, free from the tyranny of structured education. Not that I minded it much: the coursework interested me, and I had enough natural talent to make my way on a partial scholarship. Still, I have always been a believer that the stuff of an artist's inspiration is in the streets and the countryside rather than in textbook pages.

The city's natural downhill slope eventually drew my feet to its center, a pleasant little park ringed by high-rise apartments and corporate towers. It's called the Victory Garden, a reminder of the war that nearly saw our planet destroyed by the black aliens. This space is actually the footprint of the former Financial Building, a casualty of the war. The park is paved with the rubble. Now children play here and little green shoots of grass poke up between the paving stones. There are benches for sitting, trails for jogging and colorful beds of roses. There are enough banks in the city already; admittedly, this place makes a better park.

In the middle of the park, ringed in bubbling fountains, stands a bronze statue of our world's greatest hero, Sonic the Hedgehog. He stands larger than life upon a marble pedestal surrounded by glittering copper coins, surveying the park with a carefree grin. An unseen wind tousles his spines and his eyes blaze in the sun.

Everyone loves Sonic. He's saved our world on more occasions than one. All of our politicians want to meet him and all of our kids want to be him.

Me? I'm not sure what I'd do if I got the chance to meet the hero of our planet. Maybe I'd ask for his autograph. I guess there's just one thing I'd really like to ask him: _Why? Why do you do it?_

I think I know. I don't think he saves the world for glory or statues in the park. He doesn't go through all that pain and trouble just to have a good time, just because he can. I think he does it because he wants to, because he knows he's the _only_ one who can.

No matter how many times we reject him, accuse him or brand him a criminal, he still fights for us, to protect us from dangers that we cannot fully understand. Some call him a sham, a thrill-seeker pretending selflessness for personal gain, but I think that's who he truly is: selfless.

The statue shone in the sun, and I made the decision unconsciously. There was an empty bench directly across the path, and I settled down with my sketchpad to draw it. I began filling out his frame with a carpenter's pencil, broad, bold lines that slowly took shape under my hand. A recognizable figure began to emerge from the page, Sonic the Hedgehog grinning roguishly up at me with one gloved hand on his hip. It took a few tries to get the eyes right, and even after several revisions, I wasn't wholly satisfied with the outcome.

So absorbed was I that I barely noticed as another took a seat on the side opposite of me. A shadow fell across the page, and I politely turned my head to see an elderly man appraising my work with curiosity.

"Do you like it?" I asked, tilting the page to give him a better view. "It's Sonic."

He shook his head and pursed his lips sourly.

"No, the eyes are all wrong."

I glanced to my subject and back to the page. They were perhaps a little off, but I had to admit that the likeness was striking.

"No, no," the old man said, following my gaze. "That's not your fault. The statue is wrong, it looks nothing like him."

"Well, have you met him?" I inquired, still a little stung.

He nodded.

"I have."

I shut my sketchpad. Now it was my turn to give him my attention.

"During the war," he explained, tugging on his trouser leg. "Sonic saved my life." He lifted his leg to show me a glistening scar.

"Were you a soldier?" I asked eagerly.

He shook his head wistfully.

"No, I was an English professor. I got caught up in the evacuation just like everybody else."

"What happened?" I asked, hoping for the rest of the story. "Were you okay?"

He looked at me heavily and I shrank from his gaze, fidgeting with my sketchpad.

"Not really," he said finally. "A lot of people died."

"I'm sorry," I muttered, looking at the ground. "I didn't mean to offend you."

To my surprise, he laughed, a dry, throaty sound that ended in a fit of coughing, but there was mirth in his eyes.

"Do you think I was never young?" He smiled through crooked teeth. "It is hard to be a student, I know. So boring. A story from the war sounds exciting, no?"

I smiled sheepishly.

He clapped me on the back.

"I don't blame you. To be fair, it was very exciting! Sometimes I look back and I am tempted to be depressed by what I remember, but then I tell myself that it really did me a whole world of good. Before those black aliens came, I thought I'd be content to live out the remainder of my days in the service of Academia. It was a rotten life, you understand. Do not ever suppose the quest for knowledge to be the calling that will fulfil you. There is nothing in it for a lonely heart."

He laughed again. "Certainly, you cannot take knowledge to bed with you! Without that shake-up, I would never have met my Margret." He looked at me keenly, a smile on his lips though his eyes betrayed some sadness. "But you don't want to hear about the love life of old men, do you?"

I deferred politely and asked to hear the rest of the story.

"I did meet Sonic," he said, gesturing to the statue. "But he was different—smaller, shorter. And when he ran, he ran like the wind itself."

"And you said he saved you?"

He nodded wistfully.

"Yes, across the river, where the third-street bridge used to be. I was there when it fell." He sighed, and I could see that the memory troubled him. "Everyone on the north side of the river was trying to cross over and go south, and everyone on the south side was trying to cross over and go north. Everyone was on foot. It was pandemonium. People were... jumping, or falling off the bridge, six stories down. Pandemonium."

He paused, choked. I gave him time, slipping a reassuring arm over his shoulder. He pressed into me, but I could tell that his thoughts were miles away, back on that bridge. He opened his mouth and the words came tumbling out.

"There were kids, three of them—younger than you, two boys and a little girl, just crying their eyes out in the backseat of a car." His face flushed in anger. "I guess their parents just left them, or maybe they got out and couldn't get back because of the crowd, I don't know. It made me mad, I wasn't thinking. So I pulled them out and grabbed their hands..." His hands flexed unconsciously. "And the youngest one, the little girl, I picked her up and she just put her arms around my neck and wouldn't let go..."

He stopped again, his eyes watering at the corners. I offered him a bit of paper torn from my sketchpad and he dabbed at his eyes before continuing.

"I looked around for a fireman, a cop, a government soldier—anybody, but there was no one. There were aliens on both sides of the river and they were just shooting anything. Everyone was jumping in the river at this point, and I think I would have too if not for these three kids. There was a lot of debris in the water, and people were landing on it. I thought: 'no, these kids won't make it if we jump', and I could barely swim myself. I thought we could hide in a car, maybe, but we never made it."

He gestured wildly with his hands, miming an explosion.

"There was this... _awesome_ flash, and the loudest sound you've ever heard, and I got blown off my feet and all cut up by shrapnel and I thought: 'that's it, they've bombed us, we're all dead'. The bridge broke up into great big pieces and all the people and cars were sliding off into the water. All the concrete was falling off and it was just the metal and the frame left over."

"You didn't go into the water?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"No. We were lucky. It was all just twisted steel and it was coming apart before our eyes. The boy kept asking me 'What do we do? What do we do?' and I didn't know."

"And that's when you met him? Sonic?"

He nodded absently.

"Yes, that's when I met him. We heard him coming before we saw him, like a rushing wind. He came leaping and jumping over that gap, clearing twenty feet like it was nothing! He stopped right in front of me and held out his hands for the girl."

He pointed at the statue again.

"He wasn't smiling like that when I saw him, that's for sure. Not in the middle of all that chaos. There was a fire in his eyes; anger, compassion, outrage at all the senseless destruction, I don't know. But from the second I saw his eyes, I knew I could trust him. Here was someone who felt all the same ways as the rest of us, but he had the power to make it right. All that sensationalist journalism that would have you believe that he's some kind of loose-cannon menace is a bunch of crap!"

He pounded his fist on the park bench for emphasis. "One look in his eyes, and you'll say: 'now there's someone I can trust!'"

"I believe it," I said, nodding my head. "Please, continue."

"Well, he took the kids, one by one and carried them to safety the same way he'd come. It was like they weighed nothing at all! The funny thing is, that little girl who hadn't let go of my neck since I'd picked her up just let go and went with him the second he asked!"

"Children are pretty good judges of character," I offered, trying to sound sagely.

"Probably," the old man shrugged. "Either that or she knew him from some TV show and thought he was one of her toys all grown up and come to save her."

I smiled.

"And you?"

He snorted.

"You should have seen me, flopping around like a ragdoll in his arms, twice his size. Probably helps that I'm so old, my bones are all hollow. But he never missed his footing."

"Is he really as fast as they say?"

His eyes glimmered.

"Faster."

"And what happened then?"

He shrugged.

"We won, I got older. Married my sweetheart and I'm due to take that little girl on her first driving lesson tomorrow." He rolled his eyes and I had to laugh.

"Good for you," I laughed. "Thanks for sharing." I proffered my hand. "I never caught your name. I'm Chris."

He took my hand and shook it warmly.

"Miguel. Thank _you _for listening, young man. It was good to share my story. I hope that you will make note of it the next time you are drawing our mutual friend."

I laughed and promised that I would. But I had one last question for him.

"Did you ever see him again?" I asked.

He laughed suddenly, though I wasn't sure why.

"Goodness, no! Once ought to be enough for anybody. I doubt I'd have much to say to him anyway. He's the wind and I'm just an old stone gathering moss."

"How about 'thank you'?" I persisted, grinning.

"Thank you? Yes, I believe I have said that already, though..." A curious expression crossed his face and he smiled. "Tell me," he said evenly. "Am I correct in assuming that you have never met Sonic the Hedgehog?"

I admitted that I had not.

"Would you like to?"

The question caught me off guard, and I fumbled for a response.

"Well, yes, of course," I stammered. "Who wouldn't?"

He leaned on his cane, appraising me with his eyes.

"Why?"

"Well," I said carefully, "In truth, he's pretty famous. But I'd really like to see what he's like for myself, see if he's really the way they say he is."

"Which way is that?"

"Fast," I said, "bold, carefree."

He nodded.

"And you? Who do you think he is?"

I paused, searching for the right words.

"Selfless," I said haltingly, "kind. Someone to trust."

He looked at me as though he were musing to himself. His bushy eyebrows flared as though he were deep in thought.

"Well, it's settled then," he said finally. "I'm old, and you're still young. You'd better have this."

He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small item wrapped up in white sandwich paper. He held it out and I took it in my hands. It was warm, about the size of an orange and hard to my touch like a stone. I loosened the wrapping and gently shook the object out.

I gasped in surprise as a large gemstone, larger than any I had ever seen before tumbled into my hand. It was striking blue and caught the sun magnificently, sparkling as though alight with some inner fire. It's facets were so hard and finely cut that they seemed to have been sculpted by a laser. I looked at the man questioningly, holding the gemstone out to him in protest.

"Sir, what is this? I can't..." I began, but he waved my protests down.

"Put it away!" he hissed. "That's a very important stone!"

At his insistence, I stuffed the jewel in my pocket, but I had many questions.

"What is this? Why are you giving it to me?" I asked, prying for more information.

"That's a Chaos Emerald," he said evenly. "It's said to be a physical manifestation of the forces that keep this world in balance. There are thought to be seven in the world, and there are no stones like it. This one is mine, and I'm giving it to you."

I wasn't sure I understood, but I realized that he had already made up his mind on the matter. However, I wasn't quite ready to let that be the end of it.

"Well, thank you, but what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Keep it hidden, keep it safe! It's a very powerful artifact! Every time something goes wrong in this world, you can bet that these stones are right in the middle of it. They are drawn to great changes like a moth is drawn to a flame. They may even cause these changes themselves in the name of balance."

"But why give it to me?" I protested, feeling as though I might be caught up in more than I cared to be part of.

"These stones have great power for good or ill, depending on who holds them. You and I cannot wield them, but we can hold them for those who can. Power calls out to the powerful, and sooner or later, someone will seek it out. What is better, that such a gem should be left lying in an open field with no one to ward it, or that it be in the hands of someone responsible like you or I?"

"But how did you come by it?" I persisted, unsure whether having such a dangerous object in my possession would be a good idea.

"Many years of searching," he explained, "and many more of tireless research. My connections in the world of academia served me well in this regard. At last, I found one. Sonic the Hedgehog saved my life and gave me more than I ever could have asked for. When the stones are separated, their potential for evil is diminished. Thus have I returned his favor, keeping the world at least a little safer since that day. But now I am old, and I cannot protect this artifact forever. Sooner or later, someone will come searching for it, and someone will have to be there to ensure that it does not fall into the hands of those who would work its power for evil."

"I understand, but what can I really do if someone like Doctor Eggman comes looking for it?"

He shrugged.

"That's up to you. Run, hide, do whatever you have to to keep it safe. But there is one thing you must promise me."

"What's that?"

"You must never regard it as yours. It is not to be sold, misused, or given away unless your life is in peril." His eyes flashed in good humor. "And even then, I expect you to be resourceful. You are only keeping it for a friend."

My eyes fell on the statue of Sonic and I understood.

"I understand. I'll do my best to keep it safe," I said solemnly, recognizing that this man was placing the continuation of his life's work on my shoulders. Just because I'd listened to his story. Or maybe it was more than that? Did he see a little bit of Sonic's fire... in me?

"There's a good lad. Good luck, and thank you!" He waved and hobbled away without a backward glance.

I stood motionless, the sun burning hot on my forehead. What had I gotten myself into? I locked eyes with the statue and laughed. The wind was blowing, and I had inadvertently blundered into it. The Chaos Emerald felt heavy and warm in my pocket, and I closed my fist around it. I'd keep it a while for a friend; I could do that much.


	2. The Thing in the Dark

**Chapter 2: The Thing in the Dark**

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><p>For all its luster, the Chaos Emerald in my possession never gave any sign of being more than just a pretty stone. Since the day it was given to me, three years ago, I kept it locked in my drawing table and wrapped up in aluminium foil in an attempt to make it undetectable. Call me paranoid, but I guess it must have worked, because we've had three years of relative peace without any major problems. On my twenty-second birthday, all of that changed.<p>

I've since learned that the appearance of impotence is just a façade in such stones as these. They despise inactivity, calling out to each other across vast expanses, longing to be re-united. They harbor power of a violent, turbulent nature, and attract troubled souls. Power calls to power, and those with the aptitude might sense them. The forces locked away within them can be masked, but never hidden. The stone calls ever out to be claimed and mastered, a clear, sharp cry for any with the ears to hear.

I don't have such ears. I used to take it out and look at it, plumbing its crystalline depths, trying to unlock its power. As I gradually realized that it wasn't going to do anything spectacular, I began to lose interest. It was a curiosity, an interesting but useless bauble. As life grew more and more hectic, the stone and its responsibility grew further from my mind until I nearly forgot it altogether. But such a gem cannot forget its own nature. It called ever out, and one day, there came an answer.

It was one of those bleak, lonely nights. I was huddled over my pen and tablet, utterly absorbed in my work and hating it at the same time. The streetlights were flicking on outside in an imperfect cascading fashion and it was snowing softly. It was nearing midnight. I was beginning to think I might be better off dead when the phone rang. Half-relieved, half-irritated, I picked up the phone and swiped the screen to answer.

"Hello?"

"Chris, are you awake?" asked an all-too-familiar voice.

"Tanya?" I asked dumbly, feeling my stomach flip over.

"Sorry to call so late. I need you to do something for me." It was a typically demanding statement, and I bristled. But there was a pained note in her voice that I couldn't ignore. With an effort, I put my emotions aside.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Brick. He's been drinking again."

"Did he hurt you?" I asked sharply, feeling my temper flare.

"No, he's just being an idiot. I'm worried for him."

"Do you want me to come over?" I asked, exasperated.

"I don't know. He's not here, he left an hour ago."

"Okay," I said grudgingly. "Any idea where he might go? Did he take the truck?"

"Yeah." There was a pause. "There's a place on 33rd where he goes. He doesn't think I know about it."

I clenched my teeth in exasperation, then let it go. Now was not the time to take her to task on her choice in men.

"Okay," I said. "I'll go see if he's there. Listen, if he comes back and he's still out of control, call the cops, okay?"

"I'm _fine,_" she bit out, sounding aggravated. "I can handle it."

"Okay," I said again, not sure what else to say. "Bye."

"Bye."

I don't know who hung up first. All I cared about was the missed sleep I could see slipping away before my eyes. If the last two times were anything typical, then it was going to be a long night.

I grabbed my coat and keys, locking the apartment behind me. I didn't exactly live in the best neighborhood. Leaving the door unlocked was an invitation to come inside and loot.

I took the wet stairs down to the ground floor parking lot two at a time, heedless of the thin crust of snow. My car turned over on the third try, and I backed out into the street without looking. The roads were empty and recently plowed. Tiny flakes swirled in my headlights. I unconsciously reached for the radio dial, but it was gone. Just two sad hanging wires to remind me that I didn't live in the nicest part of town. I grunted. So much for that. I drove on autopilot, lulled by the gentle lapping rhythm of the wipers and the tires.

I found the address; a dilapidated tavern squatting vilely on a piece of tarmac between a fire-gutted restaurant and a smut shop with blacked-out windows. I grimaced. This was not the sort of place I frequented.

Brick's truck was in the parking lot. I wrapped a checkered scarf tightly around my neck and stepped out into the cold night air. My ears tingled wetly as snowflakes drove against them. Someone had gone overboard salting the walk. The whole strip was a mess of grey sludge that crunched unappealingly underfoot.

I pushed through the peeling oak doors and was immediately assaulted by the poisonous smell of the place, something between dried vomit and smoke. I tried not to dwell on the stickiness of the carpet under my shoes as I strolled up to the bar, careful not to rest my elbows on it. The woman behind the bar could not have been a day over thirty, but she spoke with a voice reminiscent of one who'd spent a lifetime smoking a pack a day, unfiltered.

"Sorry, can't serve you. We're closing in five minutes," she grunted, hardly looking up.

"That's alright. I'm here for someone."

"Wouldn't happen to be that guy over the there, would it?" she asked wryly.

I followed her gaze and lit on a figure apparently asleep on a table in the back corner.

"As a matter of fact, it would," I sighed. "He give you any trouble?"

"No more than what we're used to. Came in here a little rowdy, but he quieted down some once he started on the shots. Started slipping him water once he stopped paying."

"Thanks," I muttered. "I'll get him home."

I left her to the cleanup and stalked over to the slumped figure with my thumbs hooked through my belt. He seemed dead asleep in a puddle of liquor, though the table had been bused while he slept. I tapped him on the shoulder. He didn't even stir. I shook him again, a little harder, this time eliciting a muffled groan of protest. I dodged under a weak backhand swipe of his arm and took him firmly by the shoulders.

"Brick," I said firmly. "Wake up." His eyes flickered open, and he turned his stubbly head to look up at me blearily. "Come on buddy," I said, exerting a little pressure on his shoulders. "Time to go home."

"I don't want to," he slurred petulantly. "Let me sleep."

He started to slip back under, but I shook him awake.

"I'm taking you to a place where you can sleep," I explained. "Nice comfy bed. Come on, you can sleep on the way."

He protested half-heartedly as I hoisted him to his feet, and I grunted with the exertion as I felt most of his weight sag against me. I placed one of his arms over my shoulder and got him walking, careful not to lose momentum, or I doubted we'd get moving again.

We stumbled outside, and the cold air seemed to invigorate him slightly. His head popped up and groggily scanned the parking lot.

"My keys," he mumbled. "I need my keys."

"No you don't," I admonished. "You're not driving anywhere tonight."

"My truck..."

"Your truck will be fine. You can come get it tomorrow."

He seemed to take my words at face value, and I was grateful that he didn't seem to be in an argumentative mood. I got him in the passenger seat of my car and strapped him in. By the time I got around to the driver's side, he'd already passed out.

I shook my head. Now what? Taking him back to his place seemed the logical choice, but I wasn't sure I wanted to dump him on his fiancé in this state. Plus, I wasn't sure if I was ready to see her again so soon.

That left my flat. I ground my teeth at the ignominy. I had a presentation due in the morning and I hadn't figured on taking care of a burly, ex-con drunk tonight. Lucky me.

The ride home was uneventful, and thankfully brief. My passenger managed to avoid choking to death on his own puke and even managed to come around enough to extricate himself without assistance. We took the stairs as well as could be expected, with a few bruised shins and a good deal of cursing, and by the time we reached my floor, he was looking decidedly ill.

Setting him against the wall, I made to push my key into the lock, but the door swung up at my touch. I stepped back in surprise. Had I left it unlocked? It wasn't like me.

My investigation was interrupted by the sound of shuffling feet, and I turned just in time to see my wasted companion stagger to the balcony and be sick over the edge, managing to leave a little of himself on all three floors.

"Nice," I said sardonically, leaning over the railing to appreciate the destruction he'd wrought. "At least that wasn't my car."

"Sorry," he said weakly, before doubling over and retching again.

Once I was confident that he'd got it all up, I showed him inside and made extra sure to lock the door behind us. I sat him down on the couch, got him a towel to clean up and put on a pot of coffee before pulling up a chair across from him. I appraised him quietly. His eyes were hollow and sunken, and he looked as though he were making a conscious effort to stay awake.

"Chris, right?" he slurred, forcing his eyes to focus. "The starving artist?"

"Yeah," I said flatly. "What's going on, man? Tanya is worried about you."

"Did she call?" he muttered, massaging his temples. "I had a few drinks."

"I've noticed."

"Sorry," he said tiredly. He sank back with a sigh. "Could you call her?"

"Why don't you?" I said, holding out the phone.

He mumbled something incoherent and rolled over to face away from me. No amount of shaking could rouse him—he'd passed out. I shook my head.

"I hope your hangover kills you."

I decided not to continue my work that night. I dimmed the lights to a comfortable glimmer and poured the leftover coffee down the drain. There were a few steps to my nightly ritual, and I performed them with careful reverence. Brush, floss, hang up jacket, chuck my shoes across the room.

For whatever reason, my aim was a little off. One of my shoes struck home, and the other landed in the waste bin by my desk, tipping it over. Waste paper spilled over the floor. I wish that had been the end of it: a few loose papers and a minor inconvenience. I reached out my hand to right it.

I suddenly got that uncanny feeling you get when you sense the proximity of another person; a slight movement out of the corner of your eye, a whiff of an unfamiliar scent, a subtle movement of the air. Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. From behind the desk, from what I had taken for a very deep shadow, a towering black shape stood upand loomed over me, cloaked and hooded in pitch-black robes.

I made a shrill noise as I staggered backward. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to flee, but my right hand knew its business better than the rest of my body, and slung a hard, unguided fist at the thing's center mass. Big mistake: it was like punching a concrete wall. I blanched and fled the room, sluggish and uncoordinated as though in a dream.

The figure came stepping softly after me, all the more terrible to behold as it stooped through the door and straightened up to its full height in the vaulted ceiling of the loft. Taller than any human, its face hidden beneath a peaked cowl, it came gliding toward me, one black-garbed hand extended with a wickedly curved blade, thin and razor sharp, like a surgeon's scalpel. It moved with robotic precision, eating up the ground between us, shrouded in a nameless terror.

I froze. It stood between me and the front door. My heart was hammering out of my chest and I felt dull and uncoordinated. Adrenaline was making my knees weak, and though I fought to speak, no coherent sound came out of my mouth.

I thought of seizing a weapon, a knife, something heavy to defend myself with, but my knees buckled and I fell. The dark figure drew up to me, and cocked its head, as though it were a predator sizing me up.

"Please... don't!" I managed, struggling to sit up.

My protest only seemed to focus its attention. Instead of raising its blade for the killing stroke, it knelt to my height and seemed to stare me directly in the eyes. It had no face. There was only web of featureless black gauze where its eyes and mouth should have been, and it was all the more horrifying for it. With shocking speed, something burst from the center of its face, a long hypodermic needle that drove for my neck.

I threw up my hands, managing to ward off the lethal kiss, but its strength was crushing. I beat it off with my hands, but it drew back and thrust again, trying to pin my arms out of the way. I wept in desperation as it continued to thrust against me again and again, animalistic in its single-minded intent to stick my exposed flesh with its terrible proboscis.

Suddenly, the weight on top of me was torn away and my assailant tumbled to the floor, its needle cleanly snapping off on impact. With a yell, the burly ex-con fell on the creature with both knees, smashing its face in with a toaster oven. It thrashed and slashed at the air with its curved blade, but he continued to batter it with the heavy appliance, shouting and cursing as he brought the makeshift weapon down with both hands until its movements ceased.

His wide-eyed expression echoed mine as we shared a glance, and his ensuing expletive was long and heartfelt.

"Thanks," I gasped, too shocked to do more than lie against the sink trembling in horror.

"What the hell is _that?_" he shouted, hauling me to my feet.

"I-I don't know," I stammered, backing away from the ungainly lump of black fabric on the ground. "It was in the bedroom." I stumbled to the light and flicked them on, banishing the shadows.

"Stay here!" my guest ordered, snatching up a knife from the counter. He moved cautiously to the bedroom door, weapon at the ready. He paused a moment, listening. Gesturing at me to stay put, he pushed inside. Ten seconds later, he re-emerged, shaking his head. "It's clear."

"What do we do now?" I gasped, still feeling the effects of adrenaline. "Should I call the cops?"

"Not yet. I want to see what we're dealing with." Before I could protest, he straddled the figure and pulled back its hood. He spat in disgust and shook his head. "That's what I thought," he said, pulling back the cloak to expose the figure's metallic skull. "Robot."

"A robot?" I asked, forgetting my fear. "Is it dead?"

"Well they don't come assembled _alive," _he scoffed, yanking a cluster of wires from the back of the android's head. "But yeah, this one is certifiably deactivated." Its fist shot out with a hiss of servos, and he nonchalantly plunged his knife hilt-deep into its face. The fist relaxed. "Well, now it is, anyway."

"What the hell is it doing in my apartment?"

"I don't know. Did you order a killer robot?"

"What do you think?" I shot back.

He shrugged glibly.

"I don't know what to think." He cut away a long strip of cloth along the android's torso. A string of identifying serial numbers was clearly visible. "Ah, I know what this is."

"Some kind of medical assistant, right?" I asked, leaning in for a closer look.

"That's right," he said, unimpressed. "How did you know that?"

"When it attacked me, it used a scalpel and a syringe. Not your typical assassin's weapons. Unless I miss my guess, the _'CS' _on its chest stands for—"

"Combat Surgeon, that's right," Brick said, clearly annoyed. "And I thought you arts majors were supposed to be dumb. I've seen these before. The military uses them."

"What was it trying to stick me with?" I asked, shuddering at the recollection.

"Don't know. Could have been anything from a sedative to a muscle-relaxant. Judging from the way it came at you though, I'd wager it was probably trying to give you a lethal dose of something."

"Why the hell would it come in here? Who sent it? Why is it dressed like a _damn_ ninja?"

"I don't know. You're not wanted by the government for anything, are you?"

"No, but..." I stopped. The drawer. Had it been open? I sprinted to the bedroom.

The drawer was covered in pick marks, but it was still locked. I tore it open, relieved to find that the Chaos Emerald was still inside. I fished it out and inspected it keenly, looking for obvious defects. Once I was confident that it was the genuine article, I stuffed it in my pocket.

My mind whirled a thousand miles an hour as I stalked back into the common room. It was nearing midnight, and I had nearly been euthanized by a killer robot. Had it been after my Chaos Emerald? It seemed the obvious connection. Could I stay here?

The old man's words echoed in my mind: _run, hide, keep it safe—_to say nothing of my own concerns. I grimaced and began throwing some clothes into a bag. I wasn't sure I wanted this responsibility anymore. I had to find someone trustworthy to pass it off to. Someone like Sonic. How the hell did you do that, anyway? Take out an ad in the newspaper? Put it up on a billboard? _"Found: Chaos Emerald. Must be hedgehog to claim."_

Shouldering my bag, I left the room at a jog.

"Come on, we're leaving," I called, fumbling with the door.

"What about him?" Brick asked, prodding the fallen robot with his toe.

"Forget him, we've got to go before his buddies show up."

"Is someone after you? What did you do?"

"It's not me they're after, it's something I have. I'll explain later, let's just go!"

"Where to?"

"I don't know, anywhere but here!"

He swiped the keys from my hand.

"I know a place."

I grabbed them back, fuming.

"No way. You're still drunk off your ass. I'm dropping you by your place and that's it. I don't want you getting involved."

"Are you going to deal with the next killer robot that comes after you, then? Because you were doing a great job of it last time."

He had a point.

"Okay, but I'm driving. Where to?"

"My place," he said. "We'll pick up some stuff and go from there."

"When did it become _'we'_ all of the sudden?" I snapped. "I don't want you or Tanya involved. It's my problem!"

"It became _my problem_ when I killed a seven-foot-tall robot in your living room," he snarled. "I want to know who did sent it and why. Sticking with you seems like the quickest way to find out. Now let's go."

I wasn't sure I trusted him completely, but there didn't seem to be any point in saying so. He'd got his back up with that same stubbornness that I'd always hated about him, and it was clear that he was out for blood. Thankfully, none of that aggression seemed to be directed at me this time. It was an unusual arrangement. I wondered how long this uneasy truce would last. And just who could I trust with my secret?


	3. Property Dispute

**Chapter 3: Property Dispute**

* * *

><p>Since Brick was clearly in no state to drive, I ended up with the duty. It was a long, tense trip and I took the time to ruminate on the bad decisions I'd made up to this point. I should never have accepted the Chaos Emerald. Its weight chafed against my thigh and I cursed my gullibility. That old man had played me for a fool. He probably knew the damn thing was more trouble than it was worth. I should have just walked away. Maybe I should have done a lot of things.<p>

I glowered at the road, wallowing in self-pity. Brick kept stealing sidelong glances at me from the passenger side like he was trying to read my thoughts. I began to feel irritated with him.

"Stop that," I growled, refusing to meet his eyes.

He shrugged.

"So when are you going to tell me?" he asked evenly, as though he'd been waiting for the opening. His tone got straight to my last nerve.

"Tell you _what?_" I snapped. "Tell you why we got attacked by a killer robot? I _don't know._ Do you?" It wasn't exactly a fair response, I knew—I had a sneaking suspicion that I _did _know why, but I wasn't sure just how far I trusted him yet.

He threw his hands up in surrender and growled ominously.

"Fine, fine—keep your secret! Excuse me for wanting to know why I just had to save your life."

He was right, of course. I weighed my response carefully, realizing that I owed him at least an answer of some kind.

"It's—well, it's something I've got. It's a family heirloom of mine," I said finally. "Very valuable."

"Oh," he said.

I glanced at him sidelong.

"Is that all?"

"It's in your pocket, isn't it?"

I started.

"What?"

He moved with shocking speed, pinning my left arm at my side and darting into my pocket with his free hand.

"_Brick—_what the hell!" I almost lost control of the car, fighting to keep it from going over the median. I turned, furious, ready to rip a piece out of him. He wasn't looking at me; he was looking down at the cerulean gemstone cupped in his massive hands, apparently deep in brooding thought.

"Brick," I snarled. "_Brick!"_

He looked up slowly, his face betraying no animosity. I went off on him, calling him irresponsible, a drunk. I was angry and startled. I came just shy of telling him what I thought of his relationship with Tanya when he seemed to tire of taking my abuse and cut me off with a single gruff consonant.

"Stop." He said it forcefully. My jaw sprang shut as he began to speak. "When are you going to start telling me the truth? Before or after we both get killed by some egg pawn? Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't know what this thing is?"

"It's not what you think."

"Yeah it is," he said, disgust plain in his voice. Whether it was for me or for the stone itself, I couldn't tell. "That's a freaking Chaos Emerald. I watch the news, Chris."

I sighed. It was three in the morning. Had I really expected anyone to be grateful for what I was doing?

"Look, Brick," I began, ready to swallow my pride and take a stab at making amends.

"Pull over," he commanded suddenly, and with such urgency that I complied. The brakes locked a little bit and I pumped them urgently, fighting to regain control. We ended up skidding across the median anyway, plowing to a halt in a spray of gravel.

I looked at him questioningly, wondering if any cops had been around to witness the maneuver.

"Was there a good reason for that?" I asked hopefully. At this rate, it wouldn't have surprised me if he was merely bored.

"Yeah. Look at that." He pointed. A pair of red tail lights flashed past and rapidly vanished into the distance. "He's been matching us exit for exit since we got on the highway," Brick explained. "Does that seem kind of odd to you?"

"Not really?" I offered carefully, wondering if I'd missed something important.

"C'mon, paint-sniffer," he grumbled irritably. "Do _you _know anybody who drives around after midnight without headlights?"

I had to admit that I didn't, though I was somewhat offended by the intonation.

"More black robots, you think?" I asked with forced flippancy. I didn't want to sound like an idiot, but I think he thought me one already, despite my efforts.

"I don't know," he shrugged, missing the attempted levity entirely. "Probably not, but you can't be too careful." He sighed and rubbed his temples. For the first time, I noticed how bloodshot his eyes were. It must have been a herculean effort for him to stay awake at all. "We can deal with it in the morning. I just want to go home, okay?"

I tended to agree. Home would be nice, and a warm bed, six hours of sleep and going to work in the morning—but I couldn't go home. Not with a face-stabbing robot lying on the floor.

"Remind me again why I can't call the police?" I asked.

"Because the cops don't know _squat_," Brick growled. "They'll just be more trouble. I know a guy who can help us, but he lives out in the boonies. We're not going _tonight, _so why don't you just shut up and _drive, _got it?"

I did. There was no sense in asking any more questions. We drove in silence the rest of the way.

"Park up the block," he commanded, waving me off from the corner of his street.

"Think they're still following us?" I asked cautiously.

He looked at me irritably. "No. I just don't want to catch hell from Tanya."

I could sympathize. Tanya could be a force of nature when her ire was aroused. I knew from experience.

I parked the car beneath the only working streetlight on the block. It wasn't the nicest of neighborhoods, but Brick cut an imposing figure in the darkness and once again, I was glad to have him. He started off down the street and there was nothing to do but follow, my lanky silhouette trailing after his massive frame. It was an odd feeling. I'd never had any love for this man before, but now he seemed to have stepped up to the role of my protector without a backward glance. Was I just imagining it? He'd already saved my life tonight. Perhaps I owed him the benefit of the doubt.

An apology started to form on my lips, but Brick pulled me down behind a row of trashcans before I could speak.

"What is it?" I hissed, scanning for danger. "More black robots?"

He shot me a withering glare that left nothing unsaid.

"Would you _please _shut up about robots?" He took my head in one massive palm and steered my gaze to the second story bedroom of the house ahead—his house. The lights were on.

"Ouch," I grimaced, wincing at more than than the pain of his grip. "Looks like you're going to have to face the music."

"Not if I can help it," he muttered. "Come on, we're sneaking in."

I rolled my eyes and followed, watching in disbelief as he 'stealthily' tried to infiltrate his own front door, first dropping the keys, then slamming his shoulder on the doorframe hard enough to rattle windows. He cursed loudly. Lights flipped on downstairs. The secret was out.

I winced and prepared for an awkward confrontation. I was not disappointed. Six minutes later, sitting on his couch sipping at a cup of tea and trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, I almost felt pity for Brick as he sat with his massive shoulders hunched and head bowed, wilting under the dangerous glare of his fiancé. The frosted pink tips of her dark hair stood out lividly against her flushed cheeks.

"Babe..." Brick began half-heartedly, nursing a split lip.

"Don't 'babe' me," she spat. "You flip out, wreck the place and show up totally smashed at four in the morning! What's the matter with you?"

"Look, I'm sorry," he growled, tilting his head to meet her gaze with a glare of his own.

"You should be! Do this again and we're done."

"But—"

"_Done._" Her head turned and she finally seemed to notice me. "Hi, Chris."

"Hi, Tanya," I said dumbly. I didn't know what else to say.

It was Brick who broke the silence. "Chris is going to stay with us tonight," he said in a way that left no room for discussion.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I'm not part of this discussion?" Tanya's blue eyes shot him icicles.

"No, you're not," he said bluntly.

I squirmed in my seat. This was a show that I hadn't paid to watch.

"He can't go back—it's not safe," Brick explained.

"What are you talking about?" Tanya turned to look at me, intrigue momentarily overcoming her anger. "Chris, what did he drag you into?"

"I didn't drag him into anything," Brick grumbled. "He screwed himself without any help from me."

Tanya stood up sharply, looking fierce despite her diminutive stature. "I don't care whose fault this is! If something's wrong, I want to hear about it right now!"

"The only thing wrong is with your head," Brick shot back. "I'm trying to explain and you're freaking out over nothing!"

"_Nothing? _Get out!_"_ Tanya screamed, seeming ready to fly at him in rage. She pointed to the door. If she'd had fangs, they'd be bared.

"Babe, come on!" Brick said, pleadingly. "You're not listening!"

"You're not talking! Are you going to leave or do I have to call somebody?"

"Just where am I supposed to go?"

"Sleep in your truck for all I care!"

"I left it at the bar! Chris picked me up!"

Both sets of eyes turned to me and I nearly folded under the unwanted attention.

"Just show her the damn thing," Brick muttered, exasperated.

"Show me what?" Tanya snapped. "What did you bring here?" She took a step back and the way she looked at me hurt.

"It's not like that," I said with a shake of my head. "Nothing like that. It's not my fault."

Brick started to say something, but I jabbed an angry finger in his face.

"You shut up—you're drunk!" Irritated, I turned my attention back to Tanya. "Do you remember that thing I told you about? That thing I'm keeping hidden?"

"Wait, the emerald?" Her eyes brightened with sudden understanding. She was one of the very few who knew my secret.

Brick glanced back and forth dimly. "Is there something I don't know about here?"

"There's a lot you don't know about. Shut up, Brick," she said harshly.

He threw up his hands in mock surrender. I could tell he'd had enough.

"Whatever." He got up and lumbered toward the kitchen. "I'm going to go make a sandwich."

I coughed to hide my embarrassment. Tanya didn't seem to notice. She crossed her arms, appraising me with her eyes.

"Well? The emerald?"

"There's not much to tell," I shrugged, trying to make light of the situation. "I came home tonight and found some robot in my apartment." I decided to leave out the part where it had nearly killed me. "Brick smashed its head in with a toaster oven and we came here."

"Oh? Is that all?" A small smile creased her thin lips. It was apparent that she guessed there was more to the story.

"Yeah." I shrugged. "Go easy on Brick. He helped me out of a jam."

"Not going to happen," she said coldly. "You cut a guy too much slack and he'll learn to take advantage of you."

_Ouch._ My emotions welled up and threatened to overwhelm me, but I choked them back with an effort. I didn't feel like sparring with her tonight.

"Here," I said, digging through my pockets and producing the blue gem. "See if you can get anything from this."

Her eyes lit up and she took the stone reverently, holding it to her ear in enraptured silence as though listening to the forces within. She'd always claimed to be able to get something out of it. Maybe she was more attuned to the thing than me. To me, it was just a pretty rock—and now a deadly burden.

I excused myself and rose stiffly, angling after Brick. I found him in the kitchen, peering through a crack in the blinds.

"Now who's being paranoid?" I jabbed.

He motioned for silence. I could tell by the expression on his face that something was amiss. My stomach dropped a little and I joined him at the window.

There was somebody in the yard. Several individuals, in fact, dressed in black and moving slowly toward the house. My mouth went dry.

Brick carefully let the curtain fall back into place and backed away from the window. His face looked fierce in the half-light.

"What do we do?" I asked, expecting him to have a plan.

"How the hell should I know?" he hissed, scratching his head in consternation. He seemed to think a moment, then nodded resolutely. "Get Tanya, we're going to make a run for it."

"Got it." I bit down on my fear and dashed back into the other room. Tanya was already on her feet, scanning for trouble.

"What is it?" There was a wild look in her eyes that must have mirrored my own.

"There are people in the yard," I explained. "I think they're the same ones who attacked Brick and me earlier. They must have followed us here!"

"Wait, someone _attacked _you?"

As if on cue, Brick pounded in from the other room, swinging his arms like a windmill.

"They're here! Upstairs, _now!_"

A heavy blow fell on the back door, followed by another. It fell in with a crash and heavy footfalls echoed from the room we'd just vacated. I didn't have to be told twice. I bolted up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time. The others were right behind as we exploded into the bedroom. Clanking steps echoed up the stairwell, confirming our worst fears. The enemy, whoever it was, had arrived.

Together, Brick and I moved the bed in front of the door. Tanya appeared to be rooting around in the closet for something. A heavy blow smote the door. A second later, a metal arm shot through the soft wood like a piston, groping with a steel claw as sharp and cruel as a bouquet of scalpels. Brick hewed at it with a candle stand, eliciting an electronic shriek. Something heavy fell against the door.

The hinges were splintering. It was clear that the frame would not hold against prolonged assault. I racked my brain, searching for a way out of the room. The window was small and high on the wall, clearly not large enough to fit through. There was a skylight, however.

"Brick! Up there!" I pointed wildly, hoping to convey the message.

He grasped my intent at once.

"Get up there! Go!" he shouted, stooping over to let me clamber up on his back. I did so without hesitation, scrambling up atop his broad shoulders. Without thinking, I drew back and punched out the glass pane, cutting my wrist in the process.

With trembling hands, I hauled myself up onto the rough asphalt shingles and rolled to the side, clinging to the sliding shakes lest I roll off the steep surface. On my elbows and knees, I crawled army-style back to the opening and let down my hand.

Something hard and plastic struck my palm and I recoiled, thinking it the shell of a robot.

"Chris!" came Tanya's shrill voice. "Grab the gear!"

Fighting back panic, I closed my fist around the unseen offering and pulled with all my might. Instead of Tanya's form, out came a sleek plastic hoverboard, stylized in the shape of a diving gull. Tanya's Extreme Gear! She'd had it in the closet?

Tanya herself came next, springing lightly through the gap with a minimum of assistance. She had her goggles on, plainly ready to attempt a flight from the rooftop. Brick came next. His shaved head appeared in the skylight, puffing with exertion. But no sooner had he flung out his hands for us to grab, than the door below shot into splinters and shadows seemed to stream into the room.

"Go!" he roared, dropping down to face his attackers. "Get out of here! I'll be fine!"

"Brick!" Tanya cried, falling on her stomach and stretching out her hand. One of the black shapes looked up at us, and I caught a vision of two red orbs blazing like eyes from the deep folds of its hood. I seized Tanya by the shoulders and dragged her away. She screamed and fought, tears of anger in her eyes as I pulled her away from the sound of fighting.

In the end, I had to physically restrain her until her frantic struggles lessened, all the while terrified that we'd both fall off the roof two stories to the ground. I pressed the Extreme Gear into her hands and shouted to get her attention.

Her eyes focused, grew suddenly hard. She pulled on her goggles.

"Chris!" she said sharply. "Stay here! I'm going for help!"

She threw the board down and her feet slapped against the vacuum-adhesive strip. It hummed to life with a soft purple glow and in a second, she was gone, skating away over the rooftops. I stood frozen for an instant, uncertain what to do. The decision was made for me a moment later when a metal claw appeared in the broken skylight, followed by a black-hooded cranium.

My body responded less than gracefully, launching itself backward and tumbling off the roof in a tangle of flailing limbs and disjointed angles. The same trashcans from earlier broke my fall, thankfully empty and pliable enough to catch me. I still had the wind knocked out of me, and it was only with great effort that I was able to stand.

A second later, I wished that I had stayed to take my chances on the rooftop. There was an immense black shape crouching on the doorstep as though waiting to intercept any who came out by that way. It turned and I saw that it too was a faceless black robot. _Great,_ I thought, flexing my muscles and preparing to be eviscerated. _Who did I piss off to deserve this? _All because of some stupid stone!

What would Sonic do? I wondered: _if he were a wimpy twenty-one year-old human artist incapable of fighting? _Probably run, I realized, which was actually in the vein of the same thing that I'd do. But could I run faster than a robot?

Suddenly, I got it. I knew what I had to do. I had to make a run for it, draw them off somehow. And I thought I knew how to do it. I pulled the Chaos Emerald out of my pocket and thrust it out before me. The black figure stopped as if struck. Its head turned to track my hand.

"That's right," I muttered, trying to sound courageous. "This is what you're after, isn't it?"

The robot emitted a binary shriek that chilled me to the bone. Five answering shrieks sounded from inside the house. The door burst open and the lithe form of a face-stabber appeared in the doorway, accompanied by five others, similarly garbed and of slightly different stature. My heart skipped a beat. Time to go.

I turned to run. My legs felt like bent sticks. My heart fell in that instant as I felt the mechanical assassins bounding powerfully after me. There was no way I could outrun them. I felt frozen with fear, expecting at any moment to feel the Novocain kiss of a syringe in the back of my neck.

The black figures laughed at me, a harsh mechanical sound, as though sensing my fear. I thought of Brick dropping into the skylight, and remembered the old man. His story about Sonic. The way his eyes had blazed when he spoke of that day on the bridge. Selflessness. Sudden, foolhardy courage welled up inside me and I stopped dead. Spinning around on the balls of my feet, I thrust the Chaos Emerald out like a punch and screamed the words:

"_Chaos Control!"_

Nothing happened. The stone was dead and lifeless in my palm. The black figure leaped at me, stabbing proboscis extended and ready to extinguish my life. I cowered and waited for the end, but it did not come.

A rush of air spun me around and a blur of red motion shot over my head. It connected with the first robot with enough force to send it flipping end over end through the air in a shower of mechanical parts, then moved on to the next, darting and dodging under the poorly aimed swipes of metal claws. It followed with a terrific uppercut that shut the machine down for good with a gaping hole in its torso.

I watched in amazement as the newcomer took the rest of the robots apart without breaking a sweat. He was so quick on his feet that even their mechanically precise movements seemed clumsy by comparison. Bobbing and weaving around their attacks and counters, he pounded them with massive spiked boxing gloves, striking so quickly that his movements could hardly be seen.

Four more robots fell. The last wavered, stealing one last glance at the Chaos Emerald fallen upon the grass, and then fled, taking to the sky with a roar of hidden rocket thrusters. He didn't get far. The newcomer slammed his fists into the earth with enough force to dislodge a large boulder that I hadn't even known was there.

With a roar, he hefted the stone above his head and hurled it, connecting with the fleeing robot in mid-flight to send it crashing to the ground in a tumble of sparks.

"Gotcha," I heard him say, brushing the dirt off his mitts in satisfaction. I knew he had to be a Mobian, probably one of Sonic's friends. I felt like I'd seen him before, but from the back, it was hard to tell.

"Thank you," I gasped, unsure of what to say.

The red figure shook his head as if he hadn't heard me.

"Kid, I've seen some stupid stuff in my time, but that one takes the cake," I heard him chuckle. He turned, and his sharp features were split with a sudden grin. "Knuckles the Echidna, at your service," he said confidently. "Professional treasure hunter and guardian of the Master Emerald. Now I wasn't hunting for you, but you seem to have something that interests me." He eyed the fallen Chaos Emerald with a glint in his eye. "What do you say you let me take that little gem as thanks for saving your life?"

I bristled. There was something in his eye that I didn't quite like. How did I know I could trust this guy? Sure, he might have saved my life, but there was no telling what he wanted the emerald for. It seemed awfully convenient that he had showed up just when I needed him most.

My eyes flitted to the gem. He followed my gaze.

"Kid, I know what you're thinking," he said carefully, stretching out a gloved hand to help me up. I took it cautiously. We locked eyes and I was startled to see that his were a piercing, vivid purple.

The whine of a hoverboard broke me out of my thoughts and I glanced up to see Tanya descending to the ground with a worried expression on her face.

"Chris, relax. I found him. You can trust him. He's one of the Sonic Heroes."

Suddenly it clicked. The legendary trio—I'd seen them on television. Sonic, Knuckles and Tails. They'd saved the world more times than I could count. I felt sheepish as I looked back at the red echidna. He had his arms crossed patiently. I realized that he probably could have taken the emerald for himself at any time. There had been no need to save me.

There was no sense in holding onto my doubt. If anyone would know how to use the gem, it would be this veteran hero. I stooped and reverently passed the stone on to him. It flared with cool light at his touch and I drew back my hand as if stung. So the emeralds really _did _have power.

He nodded knowingly.

"These emeralds aren't for humans to hold onto, kid. They're dangerous. I'm going to put it back where it belongs." Almost as an afterthought, he added: "Thanks."

I nodded. It wasn't really mine to keep, after all. Still, the parting was more difficult than I'd expected. I guess I really wanted my duty to mean something. Something more than a drunken flight from a couple of black robots who now seemed almost inconsequential next to the real thing. Now it was back to life as normal.

Then it hit me. _Brick!_

He was there, leaning against the wall breathing shallowly, eyes shut. That he was badly hurt was obvious. A puncture mark stood out bruised and vivid on his neck. The injector had got to him. I balled up my fists in rage. There was nothing I knew how to do for him. Tanya wept silently.

"Call an ambulance!" I shouted, knowing it would do him no good.

"Stand back!" It was Knuckles. He pressed his way past and knelt by Brick's side, pressing a gloved mitt to the unconscious man's head. His eyes narrowed. "Some kind of poison," he spat. "It's bad."

"Can you do anything?" Tanya wanted to know, clinging to Brick's limp hand.

Knuckles grunted sourly.

"Maybe. I don't know. The power of the Master Emerald may be able to purify his blood. Or it might not. No promises." He drew out the blue Chaos Emerald and eyed it closely. "You've done me a big favor by holding onto this. For that, I'll do my best." Knuckles narrowed his eyes and glanced around the ring. "But that's it. After this, I don't owe you _anything_, clear?"

We nodded wordlessly.

"Okay, hold on to me!" he growled, placing one hand on Brick's shoulder and held out the emerald in the other. It seemed to glow brighter as the room grew dimmer, as though it were sucking the light out of the room._"Chaos Control!"_

The horizon went flat and I felt as though we'd been sucked into an envelope and been tossed around a bit before being blasted back out. I shut my eyes as a wave of nausea rolled over me. When I opened them, we were standing in a lush jungle. The sun was just cresting the horizon and the smell of tropical flowers was thick in the air.

"What in the world?" Tanya seemed at a loss. I felt like puking.

Knuckles stood off to the side, apparently unfazed by the experience. He sighed imperceptibly, working his shoulders to loosen them. He did not seem at all bothered by the sudden change of surroundings. A moment later, I knew why.

With a glint in his eye, he turned to us and smiled gravely:

"Welcome to my home."


	4. Angel Island

**Chapter 4: Angel Island**

* * *

><p>My first thought was that I was dreaming. The place where we stood was nothing at all like the place we'd left. I stood in shock, bewildered by this change of surroundings until the whine of an insect in my ear convinced me that it was real.<p>

It felt like late evening. The sun was a misty red orb low through the trees and the air was warm and tropical, a marked difference from the brisk air of the city. I checked my watch and found that it wasn't yet dawn in the place that we'd left—could this be another hemisphere? There was no knowing how far we'd come.

As if sensing my confusion, Knuckles spread his gloved hands wide and inhaled deeply. A flicker of contentment passed over his features. It was indeed as though he felt at home here.

"This is Angel island," he said at length. "You're very lucky. Few humans have seen this place."

I stammered my thanks, but I didn't feel lucky. I was still confused, and our dizzying traverse had left me nauseous. Since the echidna seemed content just to stand and drink in his surroundings, I took the opportunity to do the same.

The place was a tropical paradise in the truest sense of the word. The air was sticky with humidity and moisture dripped from the broad green leaves of flowering trees. Orchids bloomed pungently in the soft soil and all around there was the sound of trickling water. I took off my thick winter coat. Despite what we'd seen tonight, this place seemed a peaceful haven removed from the rest of the world and its troubles.

I wanted to get lost in the moment and just _breathe,_ but Brick's needs were pressing. He lay slumped on the ground nearby. His skin had taken on an unhealthy pallor and sweat was beading on his brow. If there was help for him here, it was clear that it would have to be administered quickly.

Knuckles was on the ball. He trotted over and knelt over the large man, listening to the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He seemed vexed by what he heard.

"That's some nasty stuff, whatever it is," he said finally. "His heart is slowing down. If he wasn't so large, I don't think he'd have made it even this far."

"Can't you do anything?" Tanya whispered, kneeling in the spongy dirt.

Knuckles shook his head. "I'm no healer. He needs the help of the Master Emerald."

"The Master Emerald?" I asked. "What is it? More to the point, _where _is it?" Brick's breathing was laboured now, and I was becoming more anxious by the second.

Knuckles pointed to a narrow track through the jungle that split off from the clearing and ran a more or less straight course through the underbrush for about fifty feet and then jogged left out of sight.

"That way, through the jungle, but you'd never make it far. The whole place is rigged with booby traps and pitfalls, but I know a shortcut." He knelt over Brick again and lifted him effortlessly, slinging the large man over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. "Stay close," he warned.

With a couple of pumping strides, he took off into the jungle and it was all we could do to follow him. The pace was breathless and Tanya and I were obliged to sprint flat-out to keep up with the echidna warrior. His feet were sure on the uneven ground, dancing over roots and stones that I barely avoided. Even as my breath began to come in gasps, Knuckles did not slacken, leading the way through many twists and turns down a hidden path known only to him. We passed crumbling ruins and massive moss-covered stones covered in time-worn runes. A swift but shallow stream broke the path and we were obliged to splash through it, the cool water offering some relief from the clouds of trailing insects.

Still, we ran on until my legs felt leaden and I was sure that we must stop soon or collapse when suddenly we broke from the trees and stumbled into a wide clearing where the mist was thick and the insects were left behind. It was an open place, spacious and grassy, seemingly scooped from the jungle. The sun stood out thin and red behind the trees, piercing the mist in a dizzying array of amber shafts that moved with the swaying boughs. I'd never seen anything like it.

Up ahead, the gloom gathered. A pair of weathered stone pillars stood grim and uninviting like the mouth of a broken-down gate. The path led between them and was lost in the gathering dusk. There was an ominous feeling about the stone gate that dried up my fatigue. I didn't care for the look of the pillars and I did not want to enter their shadow.

If Knuckles felt the same way, he showed no sign. The pillars and the shadows didn't seem to bother him. He took Brick off his shoulders and laid him in the grass. He didn't stir. For a moment, I feared that I was looking at a dead man, but the shallow rise of his chest gave him away. There was still life in him, but by the look of it, it was fading fast.

"This is the place," Knuckles said solemnly. "The Emerald altar is just ahead. Follow me, and be careful what you touch. There are traps here that even I don't know about."

With those words hanging in the air, he walked silently into the mist. Tanya and I were obliged to follow, carrying Brick between us. We passed through the pillars. The air grew instantly cool. There was some power at work here. Slowly a great dark shape loomed out of the dusk, taking shape in the evening's last light. As we came closer, it became apparent that we were approaching the foot of an imposing altar of stonework many times my height.

Stairs materialized out of the fog, a long treacherous flight to the top without guard or handrail. The stones seemed untouched by the passage of time, as hard and well-fitted as the day they'd been placed. No mortar was evident. At the pinnacle stood a barely-glimpsed stone pavilion open to the sky where a faint light shimmered as though from underwater.

There was an eerie stillness as we climbed the stone steps. No wind blew and the birds were silent. Only the sound of our feet could be heard, strangely hollow in the fog that pressed in all around us until it felt as though we were ascending through a cloud.

Knuckles stood at the crest, just a shadowy impression. He faced away from us, arms outstretched toward the altar and the monolithic emerald that rested there atop a pedestal. The size of the thing was incredible, easily ten times the size of a Chaos Emerald. It seemed to glow with its own luminescence, swirling with chaotic flashes of light. As we approached, the glow intensified painfully as the Emerald seemed to seethe in response to our intrusion.

I felt a strong sense of foreboding that set my teeth on edge. I sensed that something was about to happen and I feared for Brick. There was a great power here—would Knuckles be able to control it?

But Knuckles seemed lost in thought, eyes peacefully shut as he raised his arms to the Master Emerald. As though recognizing its guardian, the Master Emerald seemed to calm at his touch, losing its painful brightness. It began to pulse with cool, rhythmic light—like a heartbeat. Brick stirred fitfully in my arms and I wondered if there might actually be a link forming between him and the stone. Could the Master Emerald be examining him? Was it possible?

"It's ready," Knuckles said suddenly, breaking the spell. "Bring him here."

Wordlessly, we laid the large man down at the base of the Master Emerald. Spread flat on the cold stones and bathed in the eerie green light, his face took on a shallow, haunted appearance. Tanya stiffened and I involuntarily put my arm around her shoulders. If she noticed, she gave no sign. Her eyes were fixed on Brick's motionless body.

Murmuring a brief prayer of supplication, Knuckles placed one gloved hand upon the glassy surface of the Master Emerald and laid the other across Brick's brow. The tempo of the Emerald's pulsing sped up until it was a near constant glow, almost nova-bright. The air became electric and static crawled across my clothes. Tanya's hair stood on end. Something was happening.

Knuckles' face contorted into a pained grimace as though the affliction were being drawn out through him as a conduit. Slowly, we began to see improvement in Brick's condition. The pallor left him and color began to return to his cheeks. He seemed to breathe more easily as though a great weight had left his chest. The stone began to pulse more and more regularly, in sync with normal human's resting heartbeat.

With a final bright flicker like underwater lightning, the stone flared and went out, only the barest glimmer of light remaining to give reminder of what had been. Knuckles remained still. Brick lay motionless save for the rising of his chest. This went on for a long while until finally a shallow cough broke the silence. Brick's eyes fluttered open.

Tanya broke and ran to his side. She cradled his bald head in her arms. At the same time, Knuckles nearly collapsed, utterly spent. I helped him to set his back against the wall and got a weary nod of thanks in return.

Brick was coughing now, spitting up dark streams of bloody phlegm, but at least he was breathing. Tanya was crying, alternating between curses and reassurances as he looked up at her with dim, uncomprehending eyes. I shook my head, unable to make sense of their roller-coaster relationship. There were some things that I would never understand.

"C-Chris..." Brick groaned, propping himself up on shaky elbows.

I moved to his side, putting my hand out to support him.

"I'm here, buddy. You're going to be okay," I said in my best reassuring tone.

"Always k-knew you were s-smart," he muttered through chattering teeth. "S-she said you're the wind and s-she's the spark."

"Just rest," Tanya hushed him, taking off her thin jacket and laying it over his shivering form.

But he persisted, eyes roving back and forth seeking for something that wasn't there.

"T-they're going to take her, the jewel lady. They're going to smash her all up and throw down the floating island. Flood the caves."

"Brick, you're not making sense," Tanya said authoritatively. "Shut up."

"I saw it," he said, "In the pool. She told me!"

"He's rambling," Tanya said, checking his pulse. "He's still under the influence of something. It didn't work!"

"The poison is gone," Knuckles said, rising quietly behind us. "It worked. He just needs to rest. You too. You can stay here tonight." He looked pensive. I wondered if he'd seen something in the stone.

"What about the traps?" I asked.

"You have permission. Wait here and keep him warm." With that, Knuckles leaped from the shrine and vanished into the dark forest, red dreadlocks flowing behind him.

"He can fly," I muttered. Of course. Then again, nothing else made much sense. Why not?

Tanya, Brick and I were left all alone atop the emerald altar. The sky had grown dark and a cold mist had set in. My shoes and jeans were wet. I shivered, missing my thick winter jacket.

"Come here," Tanya beckoned, laying down with her body pressed against Brick's. I hesitated and she snorted in exasperation. "It's not what you think. We need to share body heat."

"Oh," I said, feeling stupid. I joined them on the ground, nestling in next to Brick. She was right: in a few minutes, I began to feel noticeably warmer. It was all rather surreal, the three of us sitting on the bare stones with our feet to the softly glowing Master Emerald. All of the things that had happened to us in the last twenty-four hours came flooding back: the phone call, the dark drive, the fight in my apartment and the home invasion. The memory of black-shrouded mechanical figures came back like a punch and I began to tremble uncontrollably.

Tanya and I locked eyes over Brick's heaving chest. The two of them looked as exhausted as I felt. We sat in weary silence for a long time before I finally found the will to speak.

"Do you think it's over?" I asked no one in particular.

I got no answer. Soft snores greeted my anxious ears, but at least there were two of them. It seemed that Brick really would be okay. With effort, I forced my fears down and resolved to keep watch until Knuckles returned. But my own eyes began to feel heavy and I felt myself sliding into sleep despite the danger. Through sheer willpower, I managed to keep my eyes open for a few minutes more, and then succumbed to exhaustion.

I dozed fitfully on the hard stones, my dreams teeming with half-glimpsed black shapes and hidden danger. At one point I awoke and found that someone had laid a moth-eaten old army blanket across us. The condition didn't bother me. I was grateful for the warmth. Knuckles sat against a pillar nearby, eyes open and watchful. With the knowledge that we were safe, I rolled over and slept soundly until morning, my dreams full of the sound of falling water and gentle laughter.

* * *

><p>The soft hiss of leathery wings drew the guardian of Angel Island's attention from his introspection. A pair of soft taps on the stone behind him signalled the arrival of the mystery individual. Without looking, he knew who to expect.<p>

"Hello, treasure hunter," he said, not bothering to turn around.

A pair of soft gloved hands pressed themselves over his eyes.

"Hi, darling. I was going to make you guess, but I suppose you know me too well," a feminine voice said. "I'm flattered, really."

"Knock it off, Rouge," Knuckles growled, batting her hands aside. "I'm not in the mood for games. What do you want?"

"Subtlety never was your strong suite," the other said, stepping out from behind the pillar to reveal a female bat in a form-fitting jumpsuit and tall boots. It was Knuckles' longtime rival and sometimes love interest: Rouge the bat, a fellow treasure hunter and a cunning thief. As the guardian of an incredibly rare and precious treasure himself, her presence was generally more of a headache than anything.

"If you're after the Master Emerald, you can't have it," Knuckles growled. "I just finished tracking down all the pieces of the bloody thing and it'll be over my dead body that it ever goes missing again."

"I seem to recall you saying something of the sort last time it happened," Rouge jabbed. "Let's face it honey, you're a pretty good treasure hunter with that sixth sense of yours, but you're a lousy guardian. Are you sure I can't convince you to put your talents to a better cause?"

"What cause is that, _thief?" _Knuckles growled, rising to the bait. "My job is to guard the emeralds and keep them out of the hands of people like you. These things aren't jewelry!"

"Then you _do _have one!" Rouge's eyes lit up.

"What?" Knuckles said, backtracking hurriedly. "No! I don't know what you've heard, but—" He eyed her suspiciously. "What _have _you heard?"

"I'm afraid I can't reveal my sources. Professional courtesy and all." She laughed, placing her hands on her hips alluringly. "But just for you, I'll make an exception. I hear you've got a chaos emerald in your possession. Any chance I could convince you to hand it over for a private collection?"

"I know what you're doing," Knuckles said adamantly. "And it won't work. I can't risk letting the Emerald falling into the wrong sort of hands."

"Ouch," Rouge pouted. "That really hurts a lady."

"Don't flatter yourself," Knuckles grunted, turning his back to check on the Master Emerald.

"Knuckles!" Rouge laughed in surprise. "What's gotten into you? You know I like it when you're surly, but that will only get you so far." She followed his gaze and cocked her head inquisitively. "What's with the humans?"

"It's a long story," Knuckles sighed. "I'd rather not talk about it. But if you want to be helpful, could you do a flyover of the island for me? I sense that something's not quite right here. It would be worth a few rings to me."

"Oh my," Rouge crooned, leaning in provocatively. "My services don't come cheap you know. Would it be worth, say... a Chaos Emerald?"

"It'll be worth a fat lip if you don't shut up," Knuckles growled. He really wasn't in a joking mood. Having this many people on Angel Island was uncomfortable for the guardian, and on top of that, he'd felt vaguely uneasy several times on his trip to and from his supply cache. As the sole guardian of the Master Emerald, he'd learned to trust his instincts and now he feared that something might be amiss.

"Fine," Rouge said, admitting defeat. "But only because it's cute when you blush."

"What!" Knuckles roared, turning bright red before realizing that he'd fallen for her trickery again.

"Exactly! Just like that," Rouge beamed. She threw him a kiss and took off into the darkness, sweeping low over the treetops and was gone.

Knuckles stayed put, standing in silence atop the shrine. He preferred to stay put until morning, not only out of concern for his charges but also to be near the Master Emerald in case of trouble in the night. Leaning against a rough pillar, he settled in to count off the hours until dawn. Nothing would get past his watch tonight.


	5. A Thief and a Spy

**Chapter 5: A Thief and a Spy**

* * *

><p>Morning dawned hot and clear beyond my shut eyelids. Something tickled my ear and I slapped. The insects were back. There was a great throng of them whining around my head, making sleep impossible.<p>

I opened my eyes and light came flooding in. I knew instantly that it had not been a dream. All of the things that had haunted my nightmares had happened in real life. The Chaos Emerald, the black robots, Angel Island: It was all true. It all really happened.

With a groan, I raised my head to look around me. The stones were cold, and unsurprisingly, I'd slept wrong. My back felt like something was out of place and my whole body ached from overexertion. With effort, I raised myself to my elbows.

Brick and Tanya still slumbered, but when I looked around for the Guardian of Angel Island, I saw him sitting upright against a stone pillar like he'd been there all night. On further reflection, he probably had. Guarding the altar seemed to be his full-time occupation.

He noticed my stirring and inclined his head toward me.

"Oh good, you're alive."

"Yeah," I said, stretching. "Thanks to you."

"Don't mention it," he said pleasantly. "There's food and water on the pillar."

For the first time, I realized how parched and hungry I was. Mumbling my thanks, I followed his gaze to where several earthenware bowls were set up on the flat top of a crumbling pillar. One was thoughtfully full of water for washing, and the other contained three large pieces of fruit of a type that I'd never seen before.

I washed thoroughly, allowing the cool water to take the sting out of the cuts on my hands. For the first time I noticed the gashes on my right wrist. The broken skylight had cut me deep. I hadn't even noticed. The dark tone of my skin combined with the action of the night before had pushed the injury from my mind.

I dried my hands on the rough cloth provided and picked up a piece of fruit, eyeing it dubiously. It was large, orange and vaguely triangle-shaped. It smelled like a cross between a mango and a pineapple. The skin was soft and pliant, hinting at the juicy flesh within. I took a cautious bite and was impressed by the amount of juice that ran out.

The pulp itself was quite tasty. I found myself savouring each mouthful. The juicy fruit actually had the effect of satisfying both my hunger and my thirst and I wondered if it might have been cultivated for just such traits.

Satisfied, I took the time to stroll to the edge of the altar top and examine my surroundings. What I saw was startling. What I had taken in the darkness for thick banks of fog were not fog at all. The mists had drawn back and now I could see to the horizon in all directions. When Knuckles had spoken of this place as an island, I had taken his words at face value.

From atop the altar, I could see it clearly. Where there should have been open water, there was only a sea of clear blue sky. A towering thunderhead loomed in the distance, but as I looked, it got closer, steadily gaining ground until it actually passed alongside and its shadow was cast over the island. This close, it appeared as tall as a mountain. Darkness brooded at its base but silver light gleamed at the edges. My knees trembled as I understood what I was seeing.

This was no dream. We were passing through a cloud like a ship would pass through a bank of fog. My breath caught as we emerged from the shadow of the thundercloud and broke through into a shining sea of air, bright and clear over open water far below. Angel Island was floating through the sky!

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Knuckles laughed.

I was speechless with wonder. I nodded dumbly, forgetting how to speak.

"How?" I finally managed. "How is this even possible?"

Still grinning, the guardian of Angel Island ambled over to join me.

"To be honest, I'm not sure," he admitted. "When my ancestors built this place, they had knowledge that only they possessed. Call it magic or technology, but I suspect it might be something else altogether, or maybe a mix of both."

"It's incredible," I whispered, awestruck in the moment. I'd never seen anything like it.

"As I said, you're very lucky. You're among the few who have ever seen this place."

I understood it now. Such power as this would require the attention of a full-time guardian.

"And you live here?" I breathed. "All the time?"

"It's got its ups and downs," Knuckles shrugged. "The Master Emerald can't be left alone. People have tried to harm it in the past."

"So why were you down on the surface last night?" I wasn't ungrateful, just curious.

"Sometimes my duties as Guardian require me to take a more proactive role," he explained, his purple eyes flashing with unexpected annoyance. "Are all humans this nosey? You sure ask a lot of questions."

"Sorry," I apologized, returning my attention to the panoramic vista. "I didn't mean to pry." Still, I couldn't help but feel that Knuckles was grateful for the company. There couldn't have been many opportunities for conversation up here. I wondered if he ever got lonely.

"Don't sweat it," he said graciously. "But don't get too comfortable here. I want you all off the island as soon as you're rested. It's nothing personal, but the longer you stay here, the greater the danger." He did not explain from where the danger might originate, but I understood the theory behind his words.

"I understand," I said reasonably, even though a part of me wished I could stay longer and explore the island's secrets and maybe record some of the sights in my sketchbook. "You've done more than enough for us."

"Consider it settled," Knuckles agreed. "You've done me a real favor in tracking down that Emerald. It was lucky that I happened across you when I did."

"Lucky for both of us," I agreed, remembering the attack on my life. "Those guys were the real deal. Have you ever run into them before?"

Knuckles shrugged, searching his memory. "Not personally, but you'd be surprised to know just how many people would be willing to kill for an artifact like a Chaos Emerald. My best guess is that you probably ran afoul of some private collector with access to some surplus hardware. I doubt it's personal. They'll probably leave you alone now that you don't have it."

"I hope so," I muttered. I wished I could believe that this was the end of it, but somehow I doubted it. At the very least, there was still a deactivated killer robot lying in my living room that I'd have to dispose of. At least I knew a guy who'd demonstrated the ability to handle them one-on-one.

"How did you get the Emerald, anyway?" Knuckles wanted to know.

It was an innocent question, but I weighed my answer carefully. Knowing the trouble the Emeralds could bring, I thought it best not to reveal my source.

"I really shouldn't say," I admitted.

"Oh?" Knuckles frowned as though trying to guess at my motive. "Listen, I don't mean any offense, but you didn't steal it, did you?"

"No," I assured him quickly. "Nothing like that. It was a gift from a friend. I don't know where he got it." That was the honest truth. I hadn't kept any contact with Miguel since that day.

"Why did he give it to you?" Knuckles persisted. "Didn't he know that it was dangerous?"

"He did," I replied carefully, wondering how much I should give away. "It was one of the conditions of the gift that I know the danger. He wanted to protect the stone and I don't think he thought he was up to the task."

"Few are," Knuckles grumbled. "They don't belong in human hands. They were never meant to exist in your world."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, sensing that there was more to the story than I knew.

"Forget it. There's a friend of mine coming to pick up your emerald this afternoon. He'll take you all home."

"Great. More teleporting?" My stomach twisted at the mere thought.

"No," the echidna chuckled. "He has a plane. I've explained your situation. He'll take you wherever you want to go."

I thanked him, but my heart wasn't ready to give up on this adventure quite yet. Tanya and Brick were still asleep and it was early in the day. I hoped to do some exploring while I had the chance.

"What's that down there?" I asked, pointing to a crumbling stone pillar barely visible through the trees in the distance.

"Those are the Mystic Ruins," Knuckles explained. "When the first tribes of my ancestors lived on this island, they built a bunch of temples. They're not good for much now."

"Can I go there?"

"Not a chance," he said forcefully. "It's too dangerous for a human. These old temples are full or traps and automatons. They'd kill you before you even set foot in the place."

"Of course," I said, a little disappointed. "I'd really like to stretch my legs a little. I noticed some waterfalls on the trail leading here. Would you mind if I went and had a look? I just want to see a bit of the island before I go."

His expression softened as he considered my request.

"I don't see any harm in it," he said. "But stay close. Don't wander off."

I promised I wouldn't and took my leave. The descent from the altar was not nearly as intimidating as the climb the night before. The pillars at the entrance were only stone and lacked the menace they'd held in the dark. By contrast, the jungle seemed lush and inviting, the shade beneath the broad leaves promising relief from the mid-morning sun and the biting insects.

After a little walking, I came to the waterfall pool that we'd passed in the night. It was undeniably beautiful, like something from a tropical vacation postcard. Dark water bubbled down a vine-covered channel and spilled into a deep pool below. The sound of water mixed with the quiet pulse of birdsong in a soothing melody.

I sat down on a smooth rock on the edge of the pool, letting the waterfall's spray wet my face. Knuckles might live in self-imposed exile, but there were certainly worse places to be trapped. I could see myself vacationing here.

I got in several good drawings before my attention began to wander. Several shady paths led away into the jungle, promising discovery, but I was resolved to stay put. Knuckles was putting a lot of trust in me, letting me wander the sacred island without supervision. After all he'd done for us, I was not going to do anything that might break that trust.

Evidently, I wasn't the only one thinking along those lines. Nimble footsteps came picking over the leafy detritus behind me. Only Tanya was so light on her feet and I turned expectantly, but the greeting died on my lips. It wasn't Tanya at all, but an albino Mobian bat in high-heeled boots.

I jumped up so quickly that I must have put her off her game.

"Easy now, honey," she said carefully, putting out a gloved hand in a placating gesture. "I just want to talk." She eyed my startled stance with suspicion. "You're not going to pull out a gun on me or anything, are you?"

"I hadn't planned on it," I stammered, realizing that despite my thin build, I still towered over her by a good foot. With Knuckles, the distinction had not seemed so severe because of the way I'd seen him trash those robots. I hadn't even thought about it, but I realized that my stature might come off as intimidating. I quickly dropped my hands and adopted a less aggressive stance. "Sorry, you just startled me."

She shrugged easily. "Never can tell with humans."

"Sorry," I apologized again. "Are you one of Knuckles' friends?"

"You might say that," she chuckled, fully recovered and apparently at ease. Her voice had a feminine throatiness that some might find attractive. I wondered if she was Knuckles' girlfriend.

"I'm Chris," I offered, remembering my manners.

"Chris?" She rolled her eyes. "Another one?" Seeing my confusion, she laughed and offered her hand. "Forget it. I'm Rouge the bat: professional treasure hunter and special agent, depending on who's asking." Her eyes glittered like she was enjoying a private joke.

"You're a government agent?" I asked hopefully. "I don't suppose you know anything about any black robots, do you?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, honey. I'm afraid my security clearance doesn't extend beyond the need to know. Let's just say that I'm not exactly the most trusted agent on the force."

"That's okay," I said with a shrug. "Don't worry about it. How do you know Knuckles?"

"Him?" she laughed. "He and I have a long-time working relationship. Sometimes he asks for my help in return for small favors."

I nodded readily. That made sense. I remembered that Knuckles had introduced himself to me as a treasure hunter as well.

"That's why I'm here, actually," she continued, lowering her voice and leaning in conspiratorially. "Knuckles mentioned that you might have found a small trinket..."

"Like a Chaos Emerald?" I began to feel a tinge of suspicion. Knuckles' mention of past harm to the Master Emerald came back to me. I began to wonder just what kind of 'relationship' the two shared.

Rouge didn't skip a beat. "Oh, is that what you found? Those are pretty dangerous, you know."

"I know."

"Well then," she said, changing her tone, "you wouldn't happen to still have it, would you?"

"No," I said. "It's gone."

"Gone where?" There was a predatory gleam in her eyes that I didn't like.

"I gave it to a friend."

"Well, where did you get it?" she persisted. I could tell she was getting frustrated.

"From a friend," I smirked. I now understood what she was getting at and had made up my mind to be as difficult as possible.

"Why you little..." Rouge looked positively vexed for a second, and then broke into a knowing grin. Good humor seemed to flood her cheeks once more. "Not bad for a kid!" she said approvingly. "You had me running in circles there for a minute."

"Thanks," I replied gruffly.

"I think you might be in the wrong line of work," she laughed. "Drop me a line if you ever want to make some real money. The hours aren't great, but the pay is pretty good."

"I'll think about it," I muttered, guessing correctly that I'd passed a test of some sort. "Did Knuckles send you to spy on me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she exclaimed. She made of show of feigning shock, but one long-lashed eye winked at me from behind her outraged facade.

I shook my head and idly chucked a stone into the pool. So much for trust.

"So what's your story, Rouge?" I asked, just to make conversation.

"I should be asking you the same thing," she retorted, lazily flitting up to perch on a dry stone atop the waterfall. "It's not every day that the bonehead brings outsiders onto the island, and it's even less often that he lets them touch the Master Emerald."

"You saw that?" I winced, wondering what she'd thought of our performance.

"I'm not a spy for nothing, kiddo," she taunted playfully. "Is your big friend okay?"

"I think so," I shrugged. "I mean, I've never seen a healing like that before."

"Knuckles is pretty good at that stuff," she agreed. "Your friend is probably going to be just fine. He might even develop psychic powers."

"What, really?" I gasped, envisioning Brick with telekinesis. He was already the least responsible man I knew. Superpowers were the last thing he needed.

"Probably not," Rouge laughed. "Relax. You humans don't have the ability to tap into Chaos power. The only reason it worked last night is because Knuckles was there to direct it. The Master Emerald listens to him because he's it's guardian. Otherwise, it's just a pretty stone."

"I figured that out for myself," I grimaced, wincing at the painful memory.

"I could have warned you," she shrugged. "Let me know if you ever find another one. I'd be glad to take it off your hands."

"You'll be the first to know," I promised sarcastically. Despite myself, I couldn't help but like the bat, even though I had my suspicions as to her true occupation. She came off strong, but there was an air of tenacious optimism about her that I found infectious.

At that moment, the drone of a plane's engine cut through the air. Looking up, I spied through a gap in the trees a single-engine blue biplane swooping low over the jungle as though looking for a place to land.

"That's probably my ride," I explained, nodding toward the clearing I'd come from. "I should probably get going. Do you want to come along?"

The bat arced her back gracefully and took to her feet. "I might as well. I haven't seen the kid in a long time."

"The kid?" I asked. "Do you know the pilot?"

"We've had a few meetings in the past. Mind your manners, he's a little sensitive about..." Her large ears twitched mid-sentence as though she'd heard something. "Tell you what; why don't you go on ahead and I'll join you in a minute? There's something I need to do."

It sounded like a reasonable enough request. I nodded, said my farewells and took off jogging back through the bush. Rouge remained behind, looking thoughtful. I didn't think much of it. I had to get back to the altar before the plane left without me.

* * *

><p>A mechanical eye watched the human go. Buried deep in the underbrush, a long, slender figure turned its head ever so slightly to focus on the retreating human's back. The image was in black and white, the sophisticated thermal-imaging software turned up to maximum sensitivity to pick out a human's heat signature against the chaotic background of the forest.<p>

"SUBJECT ALPHA IS ON THE MOVE," the mechanical voyeur reported, transmitting its findings in a rapid string of binary code broadcast over a long-range radio transmitter affixed to its back. Then, as slowly as it had before, the lens pivoted back into position to watch the lone figure on the waterfall.

The figure wasn't there.

The machine panned the thermal camera to achieve a wider picture of the area. The subject was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished against the jungle clutter. The machine switched spectrum to infrared and magnetic viewing with no result. The Mobian had vanished.

"ERROR," the robot reported. "I HAVE LOST VISUAL CONTACT WITH SUBJECT ROUGE."

A second later, it found out why.

"Stupid hunk of metal," a female voice said from just over its shoulder. The machine reacted instantly, rolling over to bring its cutting laser to bear, but the bat was faster. In the last instant it crammed all of its recorded surveillance footage into the uplink module and rapidly transmitted it to its off-island control hub. It was still working on shutting down its processing center to minimize damage when a spiked heel found its mark and terminated its processes forever.


	6. With Cold Steel Hearts

**Chapter 6: With Cold Steel Hearts**

* * *

><p>A man in a GUN uniform with silver Lieutenant's bars on the collar sat up straight in his swivel chair. He frowned slightly and screwed the headphones he'd been holding around his neck up to his ears. <em>There it was again. <em>So faint he might have missed it against the background noise, but he wasn't mistaken this time. There was a signal out there.

"Hey, Sergeant," he called, with a crook of his finger to the trooper across the aisle. "Come here and have a look at this."

Groaning with stiffness, the NCO unfolded from his cramped workstation and worked his way across the uneven deck to where the Lieutenant sat. He almost lost his balance twice. The ship's deck was pitching uneasily as high waves rocked the hull.

The UFS Vigilant was a spy ship through and through, converted from obsolescence as a United Federation missile boat into a platform more suited for its current intelligence-gathering role. It was packed to the gills with electronic snooping gear, but the weight of the equipment was nothing compared to the full load of missiles that the boat had been intended to carry and as a result she rode light in the water. It was easy to get knocked around, especially out here on the open ocean. The small spy ship was currently dragging along at sea anchor, at the mercy of the waves.

The Captain had given the order to see the delicate radio masts retracted until the storm passed. This made for a very boring day for the electronic intelligence crew, with nothing to do but monitor the VHF and swap sea stories. Lieutenant Cuspo had been listening in on marine radio traffic all day and was almost ready to volunteer his section for mess duty just to break the monotony when he picked up something unusual.

"Bacardi," he called over his shoulder, handing off the bulky headphones off to the communications Sergeant. "Listen to this."

The trooper took the offered headphones and slid them over his ears in curiosity. Cuspo helpfully turned the volume dial up, fiddling with the frequency to bring the signal in clearer. The sailor's frown mirrored his own as he listened with a furrowed brow, trying to pick out a pattern within the static. A moment later, he nodded thoughtfully and passed the headphones back.

"Did you hear that?" Cuspo asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Some kind of background pattern in the band, right? Little beeps?"

"Yeah," Cuspo said. "That's what I got too. Kind of sounds like code, right?"

The GUN trooper shrugged.

"Maybe." He looked intently at the readout on the VHF panel. "Could be some kind of automated beacon scattering off the storm front."

"Yeah, maybe," Cuspo agreed, sitting back, cupping his chin in thought. He fished out a cigarette from his breast pocket. "Mind if I smoke?"

"It's your boat, sir," the NCO shrugged. It was true, in a fashion. With more time in service than most of the crew combined, Cuspo knew his place on the ship.

The Lieutenant took a long drag and leaned back as far as he was able in the stiff-backed plastic chair. The smoke had a calming effect on him as he worked on the latest puzzle. It was something to do. It might even be a good opportunity to get in some on-the-job training.

"Hey, Bacardi," he directed. "New mission for you. Let's isolate that signal and see where it's coming from."

"Just like Spagonia," the Sergeant noted casually, bringing up his instruments.

"Yeah," Cuspo chuckled. "Except this time without all those seaborne egg-pawns trying to swarm the hull."

"Damn straight," Bacardi agreed wholeheartedly. "Okay, I just need a minute." He lapsed into silence as he worked, fingers flying over the keys.

"Take your time," the Lieutenant noted, looking over the young trooper's shoulder and nodding approvingly at the man's ability. He was a pro, handling the computer systems with uncharacteristic aplomb. This one might go somewhere with his career.

"Almost got it... done," the man grinned, bringing up his findings on the ops center's waterfall display. "I was right. The signal is coming in from over the horizon. We're picking up the scatter off that storm. It's real faint, but it's something. Good ear, sir."

Cuspo nodded thoughtfully through half-lidded eyes. He finished his smoke and stubbed it out on the armrest of his chair.

"Nice work, Sarge. Why don't you go ahead and grab that transmission for our ELINT guys to play with?"

"Way ahead of you, sir. I've been recording since we locked it in." Suddenly, a flicker of concern crossed his brow. "Hold on," he muttered, pressing his headset in tightly to his cheek. He seemed to be listening intently. A moment later, he shook his head in frustration. "Damn, I lost it."

"Try to bring it back," Cuspo directed. He was curious now, leaning forward to check his own instruments.

The Sergeant fiddled with his dials, trying to re-acquire the signal without much luck.

"No good, sir," he reported. "It's just gone. Sounds like the transmission was cut off at the source." He tapped a few keys without much enthusiasm. The printer spat out a small slip of paper and he picked it up. "Here's what it says—this is a computer translation—It says: _"...subject Alpha. Contact made. Request support. Damage sustained. Request support—elevated priority. Request..."_ He stopped and cocked his head. "And that's where it ends."

Both sailors eyed each other across the narrow aisle.

"That's kind of odd, isn't it?"

"A little bit," the Sergeant agreed.

"Make a note of it in the log," the Lieutenant ordered. "Keep an ear out to see if it comes back."

"You got it," the NCO agreed. He leaned back in his chair and rested his feet up on the console. "I sure wish that spook was around. Where did she go, anyway? I haven't seen her since yesterday."

"I don't know," Cuspo shrugged. "Maybe she sleeps during the daytime. She is a bat." He shook his head, rising from his chair and stretching painfully. "I'm going to go up on deck and get some air. You hold down the fort while I'm gone, okay?"

His subordinate grunted an affirmative and went back to his instruments.

Cuspo ascended the stairwell that led to the main deck and opened the hatch. Bright sunlight greeted him. The storm had passed as quickly as it had come, moving away east. That was the nature of storms at sea.

Leaning heavily on the railing, he lit up another cigarette. The things were supposed to be bad for your health, but he was retiring soon anyway. His plans didn't really extend much beyond leaving the service. He puffed on it lightly as he puzzled over the day's events.

Today had been less eventful than most, and certainly not as exciting as some. Signal interception was business as usual aboard a spy ship such as this one, and the process was as routine as it was boring. They might intercept as many as three-hundred such communications in a day, most of them trivial. So why was this one bothering him?

He inhaled a bit too deeply, and coughed as tobacco smoke inundated his lungs. He choked feebly as specks swam before his eyes. He blinked to clear them, but the specks did not disappear. There were three of them, just over the horizon.

Suddenly, he realized that he was not hallucinating at all. His hands went white. He recognized the specks for what they were: surface-skimming anti-ship missiles—three of them—heading right for the Vigilant. With a start, he jumped up and ran for the bridge, hoping to goad the helmsman into maneuvering the boat to present a smaller cross-section.

Alarm klaxons began to blare as somebody else noticed the danger. He felt the ship begin to turn, but it was far too late for that. His hand had barely closed around the hatch when the first missile hit. The whole ship shuddered and he lost his balance and fell as a wave of heat washed over him. The second and third missiles struck aft a second later, bringing the ship to a standstill.

The whole deck began to list violently as the lower compartments took on water. Cuspo picked himself up alive and counted himself lucky. The order to abandon ship reverberated through every compartment and the sailor didn't need to be told twice. He threw himself overboard without a backwards glance.

He was a strong swimmer and the ocean was not terribly cold in this hemisphere. Inflatable rescue boats were already being lowered from the stricken ship. He did not fear for his survival. Instead, his primary emotion was one of confusion. Who would attack a United Federation ship like this? Especially an unarmed research vessel?

As he looked up to the sky, he noted with trepidation the vapor trails of several drone aircraft. They seemed to be circling, perhaps checking their handiwork. The Lieutenant shot them a lewd gesture, angry and confused. The prevalent question kept coming back to him: _why?_

* * *

><p>The small blue plane was down in a field. I could see its stubby nose poking up out of the tall grass like a curious rodent peeking out through the reeds. I redoubled my pace, hoping that my absence had not been felt.<p>

There was a small gathering at the foot of the emerald altar and I was relieved to see Brick's massive frame up and about. There were Mobians too: Knuckles and one more. The newcomer must have been the pilot Rouge had referred to. I took in this information without flinching. After everything I'd seen in the last few days, the presence of one more Mobian had ceased to surprise me.

I jogged up, putting on a modest expression as I approached. These guys had saved our world more than once. I wanted to make a good impression.

Knuckles was the first to notice me.

"Here he is now," the Echidna said, waving me over. I wondered if they'd been talking about me, and what they'd been saying. My smile faltered for a second until I noticed the newcomer. I was surprised to find that I recognized him.

"Hi there," the diminutive two-tailed fox said cheerfully. "I'm Miles, but my friends call me—"

"Tails!" I blurted. Everyone stopped and looked at me. I could feel my cheeks heating. "Sorry," I chuckled nervously. "It's just that I've heard about you—I've seen you on TV." I shut my mouth forcefully. Some first impression.

To his credit, the fox didn't seem to mind. "Thank you! It's always nice to meet a fan." He beamed warmly up at me and I could sense that this kid was innocent in a way few could boast of. It was almost off-putting, but I quickly regained my composure. The kid was a legitimate hero by all accounts.

"You're one of Sonic's friends, right?" I asked eagerly.

"That's right!" he laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Some might say we're _best _friends!"

I smiled back despite myself. This was pretty awesome. It wasn't every day that one got to speak face-to-face with some of earth's greatest heroes. I wondered if I'd ever get to speak to the big guy himself.

"Right," Knuckles cut in. "Everybody finished with introductions now?"

I looked over at my two companions. "Brick? Tanya?"

"We've met," Tails assured me. "We had some time to talk before you got here. They filled me in on what happened. I gotta say, you've got really good friends!"

"That's very sweet of you!" Tanya gushed, turning red in the cheeks. I could tell that she was eating this up. It sounded like she'd made a new friend. Brick just mumbled something incomprehensible and looked down at the ground.

Now that I looked closer, he seemed unhappy to be walking around. He was squinting his eyes like the sun hurt them. I wondered if it was the residual after-effects of the poison or if he was merely hungover. Probably the latter.

"Yeah, okay," Knuckles grumbled, seeming to have fallen into his persona of the gruff guardian. "Let's get this show moving. There are some things I have to do, and the sooner I'm alone, the better."

"Would any of them happen to involve a bat?" I ventured carefully.

Knuckles went instantly rigid, and I could tell I'd put my finger on it.

"Who told you?" he wanted to know. "You're not working with her, are you?" His eyes flitted back to the Master Emerald as if he expected to see the thief making off with it.

"Nothing like that," I assured him. "It was Rouge, wasn't it? I ran into her on the trail."

"Damn that jewel thief," Knuckles muttered angrily. "I told her not to show herself!"

"She didn't strike me as the order-following type," I offered. "Besides, we just had a chat, that's all. She already knows you have the Emerald."

"That's the problem," Knuckles ground out in exasperation. "If she knows, who else does? I'm not saying that the bat isn't careful with that kind of information, but I want to know how she found out in the first place."

"She _is _a government agent," Tails pointed out. "Maybe they know something?"

"That would be the one explanation I'm comfortable with," Knuckles grumbled.

"Then get comfortable," a feminine voice announced. Rouge alit nearby, folding her wings with an audible snap. "It's time these people got going," she said forcefully, leaving little room for argument.

"What's wrong?" Tanya demanded, beating Knuckles to the punch by about half a second.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Rouge asked casually, sizing up the competition.

Tanya bristled and I could instantly tell that there was a dislike brewing that went deeper than mere suprise.

"That's none of your business!" she shot back. "Who the hell are you?"

"Tanya..." Brick rumbled, clapping a huge hand gently over her mouth. "Shut up."

"Good grief!" Rouge shook her head, broadcasting her displeasure. "Can't a lady get a little respect around here?"

Tanya squirmed angrily, but her protests were muffled by Brick's indifferent palm.

"What _are _you talking about, Rouge?" Knuckles asked, puzzled.

"I'm talking about _this_," she explained, revealing a piece of circuit-studded metal. Loose wires trailed from her hand and it was clear that the object had been forcefully removed from some piece of high-tech machinery. On closer inspection, it looked almost like a piece of armor plating embedded with a mechanical eye, complete with trailing optic nerves. Maybe a robot's faceplate?

Tails perked up immediately and trotted over for a closer look. "Where did you get this?" he asked curiously.

"Took it off some kind of robot snooping around by the ruins." She made a dismissive backwards gesture toward the path. "He didn't need it anymore."

My blood ran cold. Brick, Tanya and I shared wide-eyed glances.

Knuckles slapped his spiked fists together.

"I knew it!" He turned to the treasure hunter and pelted her with questions. "Where exactly did you find it, Rouge? How many were there?"

"I already told you," she explained. "I found it by the falls. It was alone, as far as I can tell."

"So it was watching us?" I stammered. The thought of a silent mechanical killer watching from the grass sent chills up my spine. "It was watching _me?"_ I thought of all that time alone, thinking myself safe as I watched the water, all that time oblivious as something crept up on me.

"Not when I left," she shrugged. "Anyway, it's out of commission. The problem is, I think it might have been communicating with someone."

"Any idea who?" Knuckles said eagerly. I could tell he was itching for a fight.

"It's hard to say," she shrugged. "What do you make of it, Tails?"

The small fox frowned as he turned the electronic device over in his gloved hands. "It's not like anything I've ever seen in one of Eggman's robots. If I had to guess, I'd say it's one of GUN's."

"No way," Rouge scoffed, downplaying the accusation. "You'd better believe that if GUN was operating robots in the area, I'd be the first to know about it."

"You said it yourself that they don't trust you," I pointed out. "What if they just never told you?"

"Hey!" Rouge snarled. "Just because I don't have a high clearance doesn't make me incompetent! I'm not a spy for nothing, you know. If there were GUN robots in the area, you can believe I'd have heard about it." She flexed her large cupped ears. "Literally."

"Rouge is right," Tails spoke up. "The similarities are here, but there's something different about the construction. See the seams in the metal here? This plate is stamped, not forged. GUN uses a different kind of heat-treating process on their robots to reduce the risk of metal fatigue." He looked closer, running his thumb along the edge. "The metal is way too thin. I don't think this is a combat robot."

"I'll take your word for it," Knuckles said, rubbing his temples. "That settles it, though. Chris, Brick, Tanya, go with Tails and..." His voice trailed off. Something was bothering him. He strained his ears, listening. Everyone grew quiet as they watched the guardian.

_BOOM. _It something in the distance, like faraway thunder. _BOOM: _it came again. The ground trembled ever so slightly.

"Knuckles?" Rouge asked hesitantly. Her eyes were sweeping the horizon too. "What was that?"

"I don't really know," he said, gesturing at us to be still.

We remained like that, stock-still, listening for over a minute. The birds carried on their incessant song and it was tempting to believe that we'd imagined it. But Rouge looked genuinely concerned. She seemed to know something we didn't. We didn't have to wait long to find out what.

The first drone came screaming overhead, popping up from the jungle with a roar of jet engines. The sound was deafening as it passed mere feet above the canopy, blasting leaves and jungle debris skyward in a whirlwind of jet wash. I caught a glimpse of a slender black-panelled fuselage and stubby wings laden with what could only have been missiles.

"Get out of here!" Knuckles roared, shoving our group in the right direction. "Tails, take the Chaos Emerald and take off!"

"Got it!" the young pilot yelped. "This way! Everybody follow me!"

With Tails in the lead, we sprinted for the tiny biplane as the drone aircraft circled around for another pass. My heart was in my mouth as I ran. I wondered if the plane might not be the safest place to take shelter.

With a grunt of exertion, Tails took brief flight, spinning his twin tails like helicopter blades to land in the pilot's seat. As he hastily scrambled through the pre-flight checklist, Tanya, Brick and I clambered onto the wings to share the cramped passenger seat. We only just fit, the three of us squeezing into the small open-air compartment that clearly had not been designed with humans in mind. For a surreal instant, I was briefly annoyed when a blue quill embedded in the upholstery poked me.

My attention was turned back to the danger at hand as a second drone came streaking in, this one on a direct approach for the Emerald Altar.

"Get this thing in the air!" Tanya shouted, screaming to be heard over the roar of jet engines.

"I'm trying!" Tails called back, opening the throttle and beginning a taxi along the improvised runway. Rouge and Knuckles were nowhere to be seen. "Hold on, everyone!" Tails shouted, opening the throttle all the way. We began to pick up speed, bouncing down the uneven dirt track as the drones circled overhead. Tails pulled back on the yoke and we made several gut-wrenching hops into the air before the stubby wings caught and we went airborne.

For a moment it seemed that his intent was to leave the drones behind and escape over the edge of the floating island, but he had other plans. Tails hit a switch and a small panel on the fuselage opened up, revealing the business end of a rifle-caliber machine gun. The plane was armed. I blinked hard. What other surprises did the day have in store for us?

"Hang on!" the fox shouted again, arcing back toward the altar in a steep bank that left my stomach in limbo. It felt like a roller coaster ride without the comfort of seat restraints.

The drones seemed be ignoring us for now, adopting a predictable circling pattern above the altar as though searching for something. Tails put on a grim face as he lined up the first of the ebony-colored machines in his gunsights.

"Gotcha!" he whooped, mashing the trigger and delivering a long string of tracers into the drone's unprotected fuselage. It dropped out of the sky like a dead bird, tumbling across the ground in a maelstrom of flying parts. The engine seemed to whine triumphantly as we flashed past the fallen drone and began another steep banking turn, ready to engage the next. I almost laughed. This was easy!

The second drone seemed to become aware of us, dodging left out of our gunsights, but Tails anticipated the move, compensating for the more nimble craft's maneuver. The machine gun belched, stitching a line of bullets across the other craft's path, but amazingly, none struck home. The drone threw itself into a staggering vertical climb that our prop-driven biplane couldn't hope to match, and with a lighting-fast maneuver, it dropped in behind us.

"Tails!" Tanya yelled. "It's behind us!"

"I know!" Tails shouted back, fitfully dodging and darting as he tried to break the drone's lock. But the machine stayed stubbornly fastened to us, its advanced programming anticipating Tails' every move.

A buzzer in the cockpit went off and Tails' eyes widened. "Hang on everybody! It's gonna launch!"

I grabbed the seat back in front of me and prayed for a miracle. It came in the form of a red ball of spines launched from the ground by powerful kick from Rouge. The red blur collided with the drone in midair, throwing it wildly off course as it fought to regain stability.

"Knuckles!" Tails cried, jerking back on the stick and climbing out of harm's way. The drone bucked and rolled, trying to lose the unwanted passenger, but the echidna clung tenaciously. He ripped at the fuselage with his spiked fists and tore away at the newly exposed wires until the drone's rocket motor cut out abruptly and sent the craft hurtling to the ground, doomed by its own momentum.

The echidna managed to surrender his grip an instant before impact, gliding to the ground in a less-than-graceful tumble. Rouge was at his side in an instant, and she waved as the Tornado passed overhead. Knuckles sat up weakly. He was okay. We all heaved a sigh of relief as Tails levelled out the aircraft. For a moment, I dared to believe it was all over.

That was when I saw it: a third drone streaking in invisibly over the trees, coming in from behind the sun.

"Tails!" I yelped, giving warning.

"I see it!" He called, bringing his guns to bear.

But the drone ignored us. It did not even seem to register our presence as it blasted past, its rocket motor burning flat out. It seemed focused on only one thing: the Master Emerald's altar. The seconds passed like hours as we watched in horror as a white vapor trail separated from the drone's undercarriage and streaked away, angling in on the altar top.

There was nothing we could do. The missile impacted in a white flash and an impossibly loud explosion. The altar simply ceased to be as a sudden wave of pressure washed over the Tornado and sent it tumbling out of control, almost ejecting Tanya in the process.

I did not see what happened next as my world dissolved into a disjointed tangle of viewpoints and flashes of sea and sky. I clung to my friends as Tails fought with the controls and the instruments screamed. I felt a strange calm come over me in that moment. Was this what it felt like to die?

My head smashed into the seat in front of me as our fall came to a jarring stop and the plane levelled out. I instinctively felt for my face and my hand came away bloody. I dared a glance around and I could hardly believe it. Everyone seemed dazed, but alive.

"Look!" Tails cried, snapping me out of my reverie. "Angel Island! It's gone!"


	7. Field of Debris

With Tails' shrill cry ringing in my ears, I looked and saw that he was right. Angel Island, as it had been only moments ago, had ceased to exist. In its place: an expanding fireball laden with spiderlike trails of falling debris. It looked strangely like a wilting flower in the sky.

"It's not gone," Brick grunted. "It just fell. Look!"

I followed his pointing finger over the lip of the biplane seat to the sea far below. Beneath us, the water boiled. Massive waves hundreds of feet high rushed out in every direction like titanic ripples from a giant stone cast into an equally enormous pond. A pillar of mist many times that in height rose up to meet us, and for a moment, we were enveloped in a curtain of cold spray.

Surreal rainbows the size of jumbo jets danced in the air like lightning and great sheets of icy cold water slapped my face and forced their way into my eyes and mouth. It was a sensory overload. I screwed my eyes shut and waited for the sense of vertigo to end. It felt like we were sliding off the face of the earth.

The biplane's engine sputtered and died with the sudden influx of seawater, sending us into the second gut-wrenching free-fall of the day. My ears popped twice. I forced my eyes open. I wanted to see the moment we hit the water and maybe have time to brace myself.

Sky and water flashed past too fast for comfort. All throughout the storm, I was conscious of Tails' steady hands on the yoke, guiding us through. He was still in control, however tenuously. Then, just as suddenly, we were out of the cold mist and back in the blinding sunlight. The engine caught and we levelled out again.

Tails' face shone with seawater, but he made no move to clean it, clearly embroiled in a match of wits with the elements. His face was a map of careful study as he felt his way through the flaps and ailerons, struggling to bring the plane back under his control.

Only when we'd put several miles between us and the heaving sea did he relax. He appeared to have regained mastery of the craft, and what it had cost him, I could only guess at. From the way his hands were trembling on the flight stick, I could only assume that we had narrowly squeaked through a very bad situation.

I looked back and was astonished at how much altitude we'd lost in dive. We'd started well above the clouds and now we held level only thirty feet or so from the crests of the waves. In the distance, a plume of boiling steam eclipsed the sun, casting a deep shadow of dark mist and shining flashes like fish scales over the surface of the violent sea.

"We're good, guys," Tails said finally, relief plain in his voice. "Is everyone okay?"

Brick and Tanya grunted their affirmatives, and it was only when Tails turned back to look at me with his wide eyes that I remembered how to speak.

"Chris?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Good flying," I hoped I sounded grateful. Mostly, I just felt scared.

Tails had the good grace to accept the compliment.

"Thanks, but we're not out of the woods yet!" He craned his neck left and right, searching the horizon for something. "It's Knuckles and Rouge," he explained. "I hope they're okay!"

"That's a long way to fall," Tanya offered dubiously, looking down at the frothing soup below.

"Not helpful, Tanya," Brick grumbled, rubbing his temples with two massive thumbs.

"Can't they fly?" I wondered aloud, trying to feel hopeful.

"Rouge can," Tails explained worriedly. "Knuckles can slow his fall a little bit by gliding, but if they were thrown around by the blast, there's no telling what might have happened! We need to go back! I know what Knuckles said, but we can't leave them!"

"Agreed," I said automatically, surprised by my own reaction. Flying back into danger did not appeal to me.

"Okay! Hang on, everybody!"

I clung tightly to the lip of the seat having learned my lesson the first time. Tails took us around in a gradual turn nowhere near as steep as the last, a concession for which we were all grateful.

He cut the engine power on our approach, slowing noticeably until we seemed to be moving forward at a crawl. And then we actually stopped, hanging in midair like a dragonfly. But we weren't falling. Powerful nozzles rotated to point downward, and we rose on a curtain of superheated jet exhaust.

"It's a VTOL!" Tanya exclaimed, her eyes aglow.

"It sure is!" Tails laughed, despite the danger. "The Tornado has lots of cool features!"

"That's amazing, Tails! Is this your plane?"

"Yep! Built her myself!" the young mechanic beamed. "Hey, you must be a pilot too!"

"Yes she is," Brick grumbled. "And not a very good one. Can't even take off without crashing into something."

Tanya said something sharp in reply and soon they were going at it in the backseat, which was awkward, because I was practically in their laps. I couldn't see Tails' face, but I had to assume he was embarrassed by the way he kept looking down at his instruments.

I did my best to tune them out and gave the airframe a rap with my knuckles to get the pilot's attention.

"I've got your back. What do you need me to do?"

He looked up at the horizon again, grateful for the diversion.

"We've gotta search all this debris for Knuckles and Rouge! I'm scanning for life signs, but it would really help to have your eyes. Just look for anything unusual down there, okay?"

I leaned over the plastic-rimmed lip of the auxiliary cockpit doubtfully. It was hard to pick out anything down there that _didn't _meet my definition of unusual. The sea was sill boiling and frothing from the island's sudden passage. There was no sign of it except for a thick green carpet of uprooted foliage a mile wide; entire trees, tropical flowers, sticks, leaves and grass lay like a mat over the surface of the water, almost an island in itself. It looked like someone had emptied a giant bag of lawn clippings over the deep.

There was such a riot of foam and floral color on the surface of the waves that it was impossible to pick anything out. But we did our best, flying slowly back and forth over the floating debris, kicking up geysers of muddy water in the Tornado's powerful jet-assisted downdraft. It didn't look promising. We could have flown over an unconscious individual several times over without ever seeing them. Tails was actively hammering away with his scanner, and my friends and I had split the ocean into three parts to search, but as the day wore on and the sun grew hot, the odds seemed admittedly long.

We kept up the search for another hour, crossing the sky tirelessly back and forth without seeing anything. I began to suspect that the searching might be in vain. An hour was a long time to hold one's breath.

Tails was taking it the hardest. I hadn't realized what the duo must have meant to him. If I were one of the only humans on a planet of strangers, it would have been a catastrophic loss to me with the death of even one.

I opened my mouth to speak, and then shut it again. What could I really say to put it all in perspective? Knuckles had tried to do us a favor, maybe at the cost of his life. If anything, we were to blame.

"Anything, you guys?" Tails asked hopefully.

"Just a whole lot of nothing," Tanya admitted. "Brick? Chris?"

"Negative," Brick muttered. "How does an island stay in the air, anyway?"

"It's the power of the Master Emerald," Tails explained. "When it's on the Emerald Altar, the island floats! Destroy the altar and the whole thing falls out of the sky!"

"So the Master Emerald is gone?" Tanya asked, sounding disappointed.

"Wait, has this happened before?" I cut in. Knuckles had already explained the secret of the floating island to me. I wanted to hear about the other subject.

"Whoa! One at a time!" Tails cried. "Yes, it's happened before. During the Chaos crisis, the Master Emerald was broken by Doctor Eggman. The whole island came down in the Mystic Ruins until Knuckles put it back together."

"Wait, he put it back together somehow?" Tanya seemed confused, but there was a thoughtful light dawning in her eyes. "Is that part of his role as it's guardian?"

"Sure is! The shards of the Master Emerald are attracted to him for some reason. They give off a peculiar form of chaos energy. Rouge can sense it too! It works both ways, actually. We usually need a special machine to sense it, but..." Tails paused in mid-sentence and looked down at the waves with a growing look of comprehension. "Wow! What a great idea! We can use the power of the Master Emerald shards to find Knuckles and Rouge!"

Tanya looked smug.

"Come on, there's no way you worked that out on your own!" Brick said exasperatedly. "That was a lucky guess!"

"Lucky or no, it was a good idea," Tails said graciously. "Thanks!"

"Have you got the right equipment here to scan for it?"

Tails shook his head.

"Sadly, no."

"Then what on earth did you say it was a good idea for?" Brick wanted to know.

"Because it _was _a good idea!" Tails exclaimed, looking cheerful. "And it gave me a _better _one! We don't need a machine, we've got a Chaos Emerald!"

It hit me suddenly—the old man's instructions: _"Power calls out to power."_ Knuckles had claimed to be able to sense my Emerald. Why should it be any different the other way around?

"Okay! Now we're talking!" Tails exclaimed. "I just need to re-wire my instruments to accept the emerald. Can you take the stick for a moment?"

For a horrifying second, I thought he was talking to me, but sudden motion at my back allayed my fears. Tanya slid in behind the stick as naturally as anyone I'd ever seen, and I remembered that she actually was a pilot.

Apparently, Tails reached the same conclusion, because he handed off control without a thought.

"Co-pilot's aircraft," he said.

"Co-pilot has the stick," Tanya confirmed, grasping it firmly with both hands. The transition was seamless. There was barely a jolt in the airframe as she flared the wings for a smooth banking turn.

"Nice!" Tails cheered. "I'm really impressed! Where did you learn to fly?"

"I used to fly 'Vulks for the military," she replied coolly, eyes on the instruments.

"You worked for GUN?" Tails asked, sounding surprised.

I understood his confusion. At 5'4", with a slight build, a pixie nose and shocking pink highlights in her short black hair, she hardly looked the part of a steely-nerved fighter pilot. But I knew better: give her a baggy green coverall and a smudge of grease on her face coupled with an aviator's mirrored helmet, and she was indistinguishable from the rest of the government-issue soldier types common around Station Square. I still had a picture of it in my wallet, though I'd never tell Brick that.

"Yeah. I used to be all kinds of special." She broke out into a grin as she put the Tornado through its paces. "And I can start by telling you that this is no ordinary biplane. What did you do to it?"

"Lots! Some of the modifications I've made are really cool! I'd love to have your opinion on them sometime!" he laughed, the stresses of the day apparently forgotten.

"I'd like that," Tanya smiled, enjoying the thrill of being back in her element. "I can already tell what you've done with the turboprop."

"Let's try and focus," Brick rumbled, making an effort to get back on track. I couldn't tell if he was irritated because of the interruption or if he was just annoyed that the conversation had taken a turn that he couldn't follow.

"Oh, right! Excuse me, everybody." Tails disappeared under the console and from my vantage point, it appeared that we were suddenly in an aircraft without a pilot.

He popped back up a moment later.

"Chris! Your emerald, please!"

"I dug around in my pocket and pulled out the oversized gemstone. It's fire seemed lessened by the destruction of Angel Island, but it was still a dazzling sight in the sun.

Tails held out his hand and I passed it off.

"Don't break it, okay?" Brick said. "It's probably worth a lot of money."

"Money?" Tails said from beneath the console, sounding as though he'd never even considered it. "Wow, I guess it would be! I never really thought about that. Where I'm from, the Chaos Emeralds are really important! Nobody would even think about selling one or stealing one, except Doctor Eggman."

I had to wonder at that. Doctor Eggman—human, like us. Was it telling that our first instinct when presented with a treasure like a Chaos Emerald was to appraise it's monetary value?

"Got it!" Tails said exuberantly, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Chaos energy scanner is on! Scanning now!"

He touched a button and waited expectantly for a return on the small orange computer screen on the dashboard console. I didn't see what the results were, but they were apparently satisfactory, because Tails turned to us with a big smile on his face.

"Okay, gang! We've got 'em! They're below us about a hundred feet on the seafloor!"

"Yeah. That's about what I figured," Brick muttered. "Are they _alive?_"

"Sure seems like it!" Tails crowed. "They're moving! Look!"

I looked, and sure enough, two computer-generated blobs were moving laterally away from us on the seafloor, apparently against the current.

"How is that possible?" I asked.

Tails shrugged.

"I don't exactly know; but I have a theory. Angel Island is full of ancient ruins. Some of them run under the island itself. If I had to guess, I'd say that Rouge and Knuckles have found an air pocket. They're probably down there in one the tunnels!"

"Anyone want to go for a swim?" Brick quipped weakly. I think he meant it as a joke, but Tails' ears perked up at the mention. I could tell he'd already had an idea.

"I do, actually! Let's put her down. Tornado! Float mode engaged!"

To my surprise, the biplane responded. The landing gear retracted up into the underside of the plane and a pair of sea floats popped out in their place, enabling a water landing.

We touched down at the edge of the floating slick, careful to navigate around the worst of the debris. After a few adjustments, Tails hit a switch and the propeller ground to a stop.

The absence of constant engine noise came almost as a shock. Suddenly, the noise of the waves was all there was, mixed with the hollow cork-like sounds of debris knocking together. It was almost peaceful, being surrounded by open ocean on every side. Level with the floating greenery, the impression of a solid surface was overpowering. I half-expected to see Knuckles come striding up to us over the softly undulating garden.

Satisfied that the Tornado was in good hands, Tails vaulted overboard, careful to keep his footing on the left side sea float. I watched him curiously, wondering what surprises he had in store. His able hands found a hidden locker in the plane's fuselage, from which he pulled a diving mask, complete with what seemed to be its own miniaturized air supply. I recognized the twin-tails design on the tank from the one on the side of the Tornado.

"I made these myself!" he confirmed, experimentally fitting himself for the mouthpiece. "It'll let the user breath underwater indefinitely!"

_Indefinitely? _I'd never heard of such a gadget. I found I couldn't keep myself from smiling. _Who was this kid?_

"I only have one spare," he said, scratching his head. "So I can't bring Knuckles and Rouge to the surface together."

"Maybe two of us ought to go down," Tanya suggested. "We could piggyback on the breathing apparatus on the way back up."

"That could work," Tails mused. He looked up at us with a kindly smile and I felt my stomach drop. I had zero desire to go exploring the seafloor. "Well, how about it?"

Tanya caught my look of despair and smiled wickedly behind an open hand.

"If you're going down, you'll need somebody up here to keep the Tornado on course. I'm probably the only one qualified. Better take one of the guys."

"Yeah, you're right!" Tails agreed. "Well?" He turned to Brick and I.

His eyes betrayed him, and I knew he was thinking the exact same thing. We shared a look of panic and immediately opened our mouths to speak, but Brick beat me to it.

"Not me, I'd sink like a rock." He grabbed my shoulders and thrust me forward. "Chris is your man, he's a qualified swim instructor!"

I shot him a look of pure hatred. _Bastard. _I'd only been a 'swim instructor' back in junior high on the local dog-paddle team. He knew I hated the ocean too.

"Great!" Tails grinned, apparently oblivious to my internal distress.

"Uh, my clothes are almost dry," I offered weakly, desperately looking back at Tanya for support. She offered none, her face utterly impassive.

"Gee, thanks guys," I muttered, stripping off my shirt. My unimpressive physique was apparent for all to see, though thankfully my dark skin would keep the worst of the sun's fury from harming me. Brick's bald head was already cooking like a lobster.

"Whoa, Chris! Have you been working out?" Brick joked, taking every opportunity to rub it in.

"At least I've got some muscle in my head," I shot back, climbing over the edge of the seat to join Tails on the float.

The touch of the water was icy cold. The very thought of fully immersing myself in the dark waves sent a shiver over my entire body.

"Cold?" Brick asked helpfully.

"Yeah," I ground out through chattering teeth. "It's the ocean."

"Best thing to do is just to get it over with all at once."

"Yeah. Thanks."

I should have seen it coming in the tone of his voice, but I was too preoccupied with thoughts of sharks and sea slime to notice. I was looking the wrong way when a sudden shove took me in the chest, and I was in the water.

It _was _cold. I bobbed up kicking and sputtering, too shocked to do more than thrash around and shout obscenities as I suddenly found myself treading water.

I heard laughter and realized that I was the only one who felt betrayed. Everyone else had seen it coming and they were having a joke at my expense. Once the shock wore off, it was hard to stay angry. And Brick was right: it _was _better to get it all done with at once. I swallowed my pride and soon I was grudgingly laughing along.

Swimming in the open ocean wasn't so hard. Every five seconds, another wave would roll through and lift me, so the threat of sinking wasn't very real. Still, it was a little tiring to swim against the current, and I eventually found myself clinging to the float as Tails made preparations.

The sun was warm against my back, and the water near the surface was pleasantly cool. I began to feel a little drowsy. A quick dunk of my head fixed that.

After a few minutes more, Tails was ready. He had a waterproof satchel trailing from his ankle by a nylon retainer line and wore a rather sophisticated-looking wristwatch with a built-in computer screen. For my part, I had removed my shoes, and Brick tossed me a black liner-lock knife from his belt that I duly shoved in my waistband.

There was a cannonball splash, and Tails bobbed up next to me, looking decidedly sleeker soaking wet.

"You ready?" He passed me a mouthpiece and showed me how to put it on.

I adjusted the fit and dunked my head underwater. I took a cautious breath through the filter and sucked air. I surfaced and gave him a thumbs-up. The twin-tailed fox returned the gesture and put his own mask on. Tanya flashed a little wave, and with that, we submerged.


End file.
